FOR SALE: NORTHAMPTON GUILDHALL

• This lavish building in Northampton is a centrepiece of the market town at the heart of England.
• Constructed between 1861 and 1864 with an in-style extension built in 1992 this building has over the years had several not very careful owners.

• Presently full of hot air and self importance, it is important for the pension pot that there is a quick sale with no paper trail.
• The interior is of quality appearance with plush seating and many water coolers which upon sale will be topped up with quality mineral water.
•  The local facilities include a pub, a nightclub, another pub, another nightclub, some boarded up shops, some more pubs, some pound shops, toilet facilities in shop doorways and a couple of charity shops.
• Also although not actually on the property there is a rather splendid defunct water feature to the rear of the building which when powered up is able to sprinkle liberal amounts of urine deposited the previous evening from the local revellers.
• Another local feature is off-road rallying provided due to an innovative "pot hole" feature.
• As part of the purchase a statue titled Sekhemka will also be included which we are also not allowed to be selling either. However like they say this is democracy... 

Theatre Review: Passion Play at the Duke Of York's Theatre, London

Why my blog became all serious and high-brow I do not know, but this weekend I had the pleasure of being in London once again and saw the simply superb Passion Play at the Duke Of York Theatre.

Like the recently viewed Beautiful Thing, this is an old play given another airing. First performed in 1981 and written by Peter Nichols. It presents domestic woes in the form of a most stylish and inventive format. The two main characters (the married couple Eleanor and James) represented on stage by dynamic alter-egos, wholly revealing that persons innermost thoughts.

The reason for these alter-egos so appearing comes in the gorgeous form of Kate, a sexual predator and "old" man eater, who having buried her previous conquest sets her sights on James, via of all people his wife Eleanor. Devouring and consuming him via her stunning form and rampant persona, the alter-egos appear. First James' and then even more dramatically Eleanors'.

Stoking the fire between the couple is the form of the wronged wife of Kate's former conquest, Agnes. Bitter, twisted and purely setting out to reveal all the devil that is Kate's wrongdoings.

Representing all these characters are what can only be described as a tour de force of actors. When all on stage, the words, the emotion, flow from these stunning professionals is a wonder to behold. From the gentle and silent emotions, to the shear all out shouting carnage of the second half. It really is a joy to behold.

Really to single out a single one of the performers would be cruel in the extreme. Zoe Wanamaker as Eleanor is of course the star name that most would recognise, and in the role she really is superb, from the quiet moments to the heavy moments, with the superb comic timing in between, there really is nothing to fault.

However as her alter-ego Nell, Samantha Bond has all the mannerisms of Zoe Wanamaker, but the lines that Zoe's character would not dare to say. Well at first maybe. Samantha in the second half puts in so much emotion when things turn nasty, you would be fooled into thinking that you really are witnessing the disintegration of a marriage before you.

Tony Award winning Owen Teale as James shines throughout and has the better of the rapartee with his alter-ego Jim, played by Oliver Cotton. These two work together so well despite for the best part of the play them generallly not talking to one another. Oliver provides the best of the comic moments, frequently just with his physical actions while the others talk.

Kate slinks and slides across the stage in various form of dress (and undress) in the glorious shape of Annabel Scholey. She epitomises confidence and sexual tension as James (and pretty much anyone) would struggle to resist her charms given the chance. It is a performance of confidence despite finding herself on stage with the powerhouses around her and can only be applauded for holding her own in the surroundings.

The smallest role of Agnes, is played with bitterness relishly by Sian Thomas. Setting the fire of the whole of the second half with her intercepted mail.

I would also like to mention the ensemble, lesser heralded, and wordless, Kelly Burke and Matt Weyland give their all to delivering the set and playing their multiple roles with delicateness.

The production itself from director David Leveaux and set designer Hildegard Bechtler is complimented superbly with the use of the dynamic stage, with revolving and sliding of the set to excellent effect, right down to that very final moment, it comes up trumps. The music usage to also done with panache and style, with crescendos of music used excellently throughout.

Overall a superb production of what on paper sounds like a complicated play, which given your full attention in reality is never truly complicated. Worth your time without doubt to see a collection of actors at the top of their game performing a fast and excellent script.


Passion Play is on at The Duke Of York's Theatre, London until 3rd August
www.passionplaylondon.com

Theatre Review: Beautiful Thing at the Arts Theatre, London

I felt the need to resurrect my blog after a couple of months of hibernation, and the perfect opportunity came following my viewing of an absolutely superb play on Saturday. As it happens I have spoilt the punchline of whether the show was any good already, but matters not, let me go back to the beginning.

I was due to be in London on Saturday so I rooted about looking for a play to see while there and it turned out I managed to find one featuring one of of my favourites, Suranne Jones. So I booked up, with genuinely no knowledge at all about what the play was about (I am want to do this whenever in the city).

Following buying the tickets, I did a little google, cleaned up the mess and then checked on the internet what the play was about. So, a play, a film and now a 20th anniversary version of the play. A play about two gay boys, an interesting theme, that I am going to be blunt here, I would not have chosen to go and see. Many I suspect would do the same.

All of them and myself could not be more wrong to prejudge. It was a sweet, witty, and thoroughly entertaining play.

Leading the cast as the mother of one of the boys, was Suranne Jones (lovely) as Sandra, and in a roll, somewhat out of type for her, she exelled, maybe with a suspicious hint of dodgy dialect, but that didn't matter. The roll had all the best comic lines, with some gloriously fruity jokes. Suranne genuinely seemed to be having a ball in the role, and we all did watching. In the performance I saw, there was also a most wonderful corpsing moment for Suranne when there were issues with a shut door, or lack of, let's say. A wonderful moment, that of course is "non-professional" for the snooty types no doubt, but part of the joys of a live performance.

As the two boys, Jake Davies and Danny-Boy Hatchard (the latter in his professional début) both excelled in their comic and serious moments, Hatchard particular was perfectly able to get the real tears flowing when they were needed on a number of occassions.

Zaraah Abrahams and Oliver Farnworth both had less to do in their supporting roles, but by no means did either come up short. Abrahams was fun and frivilous in her role and got to do a couple of nice singing performances, while Farnworth got the obvious pleasure of having Suranne all over him, so I hated him! Well of course not (yes). He had perhaps the most caricatured role as Tony, but he managed to make it gloriously his own


The stage design I feel should have special mention as well. Incredibly simple, but because of this highly beneficial to the perfromances, allowing them to just get on with it. Pretty much just three doors and the occassional bed, made a nice clean environment for the actors to do their stuff.

Final mention though of course to writer Jonathan Harvey for a surprising, witty script. Certainly a product of its time, anyone not around in the early nineties might find themselves wading through many of the period jokes, but I was there and I got pretty much everything and enjoyed every moment.

So, to sum up. A wonderful play, which I am very happy to have accidentally came across in pursuit of one of my favourites. Something I would highly recommend anyone should see, without prejudice, no matter what side your bread is peppermint buttered in the romance department. What a terrible joke to finish on, that doesn't even make sense!

Just go and see it, but be quick in London, or you shall have to chase it around the country.

http://www.beautthing.com/

Binageddon - A Short Story

For @eigna2012

Monday

The lid lifted gently as it had done every day in the two weeks since its first appearance. At first Angie has assumed that some strange draft caused by the door could somehow miraculously lift it as she entered the toilets.
Simone has said otherwise when asked about it.
"You are insane Ang! How could a draft lift a large plastic lid like that" she had said.
Feeling more stupid than normal Angie had never mentioned it to anyone again.
However as always, like every morning, Monday was no different and as she entered through the door the bin lid lifted as if to say hello to her arrival.
Skirting around it to get to the cubicle she hurried inside and closed the door.

Tuesday

"Hello" the bin said. "How are you today?"
It didn't of course, but today it flapped up and down several times, as if it was having a conversation with the toilets only occupant.
Angie had wished that the firm had never had the toilets spruced up. The old bin had been an innocent old fashioned device that needed quite a hefty push on the foot pedal to get the lid up for disposal purposes. There had never been any chance of that having an impromptu conversation with you.
The toilets may well now have looked like they should have had Kevin McCloud perusing them, but for Angie, she pined for the old bin.

Wednesday

Debbie was doing her hair as Angie entered the toilets first thing. As always when anyone was in there first, the bin decided to keep quiet.
This was the main thing that had always unnerved Angie, why only when she was on her own? To try to reassure herself, she had decided that this was because of some highbrow science involving airflow with a second body in the room. In her gut though, it was just that the bin was out to get her.
'Did you see Dallas last night Ang?" Debbie said as she walked in. Directing her conversation to Angie's reflection in the mirror instead of turning to her.
'That Josh Henderson has his top off again' she continued. Debbie had always loved the bad guys and Dallas was her current favourite show. The jokes referencing "Debbie", "Does" and "Dallas" in the office seemed to be never ending.

Thursday

Flip.
Flap.
Flip.
Flap.
As usual, the warm welcome came from the bin as Angie entered during her morning break. Sneaking round as usual, and dashing into the cubicle, Angie slammed the door.
As the door slammed today however the lights flickered, flashed a couple of times and went out.
This was different Angie thought and dropped trembling onto the toilet. Coincidence? Just a coincidence she thought.
Just a power cut.
That was all, just a power cut, she tried to convince herself.
Then a rattle began to occur. Something outside the door was rocking, hitting the floor.
She knew what this was without a doubt and her trembling and shaking got worse. A warm red glow had also begun to filter under the door and the noise increased with every second.
After about a minute it got too much and Angie flung the door open screaming.
Across the room, the bin was shaking and rocking out of control as if Oscar the Grouch or Top Cat were trying desperately to get out.
There was room to run and run Angie did, screaming for the door.

Friday

The bin was gone!
As Angie entered the toilets at lunch after having avoided the toilet during her morning break the first thing she saw was the new bin. A different colour, a different shape, and more importantly not talking, not shaking and not coming for her.

The day had been good and as Angie drove her, Gary sang about Forever Love from her car radio and the steering wheel was tapped in tune.
Pulling up at home and climbing from the car, she fumbled in her bag for her door keys. After finally finding them, she walked up to the door and unlocked the door.
Pushing open the door, while struggling with the shopping bags, Angie failed to see the bin that rocked and shook as it moved towards her down the passage way...


Based on an original idea by @eigna2012 on Twitter.

Any similarities to real people or real events are purely a coincidence and of course are very unlikely to occur in real life.
Or are they?

Harry Potter And The Casual Vacancy

The following is an extract from the latest book by J. K. Rowling. Reader discretion is advised as it contains explicit content. Certain words have however been edited to prevent extreme offence.

Harry sat in the dorm at Hogwarts school and stared down at the table. Taking from his top pocket his Galleon credit card he scraped the white powder into a thin line.

Rolling a crisp piece of paper into a tube he lent forward and inhaled the substance quickly and crashed back in the chair.

'I feel like I am f***ing flying on a broom, man!' he yelled as he fell off the chair.

From the floor he looked up at Hermione, who sat in the chair alongside him. She had a worried expression on her face as she looked down at him.

'Hey babe', Harry said from the floor. 'Wanna bit of fun?' and he grabbed her thin panties between her legs.

'Feels nice and wet there, you must be ready for my magic wand, luv!'

He tore at them and Hermione gave a strangled scream of distress and got up to run for the door. Grabbing her leg, Harry pulled her to the floor and rolled on top of her as she screamed for help.

Just at that moment as Harry fumbled with one hand in his trousers to get his c**k out and keeping a finger of his other hand in Hermione's c**t, the door burst open.

'Get off her Harry, what the hell are you doing!' cried the flame haired Ron Weasley from the doorway.

Harry stared up at him as he lay on his side across the prostrate Hermione his erect penis visible to all.

'Keep f***ing out of it you ginger haired c**t, can't you see she's f***ing begging for it?'

At that same moment the door burst open once again and ducking through the door came Hagrid.

'Hey Harry! Call that a d**k, this is a d**k' he cried as he dropped his trousers.

'Oh my!' cried Hermione.

'Yeah babe, some of us are big in every department...'

The full book Harry Potter And The Casual Vacancy is not available in any good or even bad bookshops.

Open Wide - A Dental Odyssey

I went to the dentist yesterday. It was a happy experience for a change. No work required so I scampered away with my booking nine months hence.

However it got me thinking about the trials and tribulations of visits to the dentist through the years. I have the bizarre experience of having reached three and a half decades on the planet and in that time I have only ever had the services of just two dental practitioners. I can't help but think that it quite surprising.

Only two people have delved into my mouth that I have directly paid them too (well those that I am sharing with you, mind). My old dentist who served me well for about thirty years retired to some such place about four years ago. He was a great guy in the old style. Worked at lightning pace, filled where needed and pulled forth my wisdom, teeth that is, from the "comfort" of his chair. He was old school.

Now however after he left me after thirty years, I have a lady from some far-flung place in Europe. Highly efficient, but very much in the new school of treatment. First and foremost its all about hygiene. I go into the room and she goggles up, masks up and puts those rubber gloves on. For a minute I always have to check I have come to the right place, and not that other "establishment" I might be known for visiting.

However, it is my dentist and masked up as if I have some sort of bubonic plague she attacks me with her implements.

Yesterday, like I said, I got away with it lightly. No work to be done. However in the past when she has had to repair some of my fillings (brush your teeth kids) it is a test of endurance. Mouth open for minutes as she sprays, pokes, and nudges away. Jaw ache like never before, as if I have been sucking on a football for an hour. Its ironic that now injections are common place which removes a lot of the pain from the actual work, a new form of pain arrives.

Bruised and battered, jaw aching and drooling down your chin. You look like Ricky Hatton after an all-nighter at the local pub.

There is also the small matter of the money you pay for the privilege for all this as well. Why do the NHS prices offer a buy one get half a dozen (or more) fillings free? Are they some kind of supermarket or something? It makes me want to pick the other darn fillings out if I need one, so that I get value for money.

However I am sure I have wrote enough of this waffle. If you have made it this far, you are probably more than able to survive the stress of the dentists chair.

Next time you are in the chair however, just lay back and thank god that Steve Martin ain't your dentist.

The 2012 London Paralympic Games: In Review

The London 2012 Olympic Games had been amazing. The Paralympic Games however were truly remarkable.

Combining the power of highly competitive sport with the power of the human stories behind each and every competitor. From the very beginning with the albeit less powerful opening ceremony following the Olympics masterpiece, we knew we were in for a tremendous ride.

The Opening Ceremony was never going to match Danny Boyle's stunner, but with some truly amazing imagery from the likes of Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson flying through the air to the arrival of the flame in the hands of Soldier Joe Townsend descending from the Orbit Tower. Perhaps the moment of the ceremony however had to come from the inspired idea of performing the once banned song Spasticus Autisticus by Ian Drury. An amazing moment.

However the truly amazing moments were to come in the days following the ceremony as the athletes took centre stage. A story behind every disability, and a power and determination to succeed at everything. These people were not blocked by anything, other than things that were out of control.

Together we marvelled at swimmers with no arms. Long jumpers with no sight. High jumpers with one leg. Archers holding their bows with their feet. These people had nothing in their way to prevent them performing.

On the day that Wayne Rooney gave an interview in the press about the trials of his injury, weight, and hair loss. I watched a tennis player in a motorised wheel chair catching the ball with his feet and tossing the serve with them. If the likes of  Rooney and the sickness of their monstrous pay packets whining wasn't bad enough at the best of times, during the Paralympics, it belied belief.

The only dull part of the event came from the Channel 4 coverage. Never up with the blanket delight the BBC offered, coupled with the glaring need for advertisements, it came a very poor second. Presenters and commentators were inadequate also, with the only quality coming from those that had been stolen from the BBC. When watching the running in the Olympic Stadium, there is something quite wrong when in the background of Rob Walker's commentary you can hear someone feeding him his lines.

London 2012 in both Olympic and Paralympic form has hopefully taught us many things. The true role models lie in these people, not in those that take home thousands of pounds a week for kicking a football, or those monsters that enter the Big Brother house, or those that are made into stars on the likes of The X-Factor.

These people have worked hard, dedicated their lives to their chosen sport, for little or no return. They also, through their broad smiles throughout, looked like they wanted to be their, unlike the constant sour looks of those other stars.

They were there for pride in their sport, pride in their country and pride in their performance. We all should learn a lot from that.