Friday, 24 September 2010

Fiction Friday (An Apology)

Hello, and many apologies (pronounced in the accent of Prince Ludwig the Indestructible) for the appalling delay in posting up a new article type thing. I am a shocking slacker, and no amount of 'Oo, I just don't feel like it,' or 'Too busy at work' feeblages can excuse my shoddy behaviour.

But take pity on the Ocelot, for I have just suffered a most grevious assault upon my person. There I was, sneakily having a go of Bejwelled Blitz while Herself was out, when I heard, over the tinkling of exploding computerised jewels, a strange hissing in my immediate area. Was it the boiler next door overheating? No. Was it Mr Fluffy, our resident python, being especially vocal regarding the discomfort of his skin-shedding? No. It was the inflatable therapy ball, upon which I was perched, springing a leak. Sadly I didn't figure this out until in the midst of casting my head from left to right (not unlike one of the big ol' mystic creatures in The Dark Crystal) in search of the source of the hissing noise, the bloody thing exploded and dumped me hard on my bum. Ouch.

Good thing my bottom is well padded from consuming the hardened remains of Herself's failed vegan sponge cake experiment, or I may actually have hurt myself.

Still and all, I survive to ocellate another day. Though I type this very entry propped up precariously between the keyboard and the back of the therapy couch. I'm basically half-stooped as if I was trying in vain to rest on one of them padded pseudo-seats they've started putting in tube trains. Honestly, what is the point of them? I'm not sat down, I not stood up; I'm half leant against a padded roll of sponge bolted to the carriage wall at vaguely bum-height. Madness.

Any road up, I was going to bang on about that prince among biscuits, the custard cream, or else speculate fruitlessly about who would be best suited to play Loki, God of Mischief in the forthcoming Thor film. Or even my abhorrence of the term 'early adopter' and how associating with such people can only lead to unhappiness. I can also feel a lengthy diatribe regarding the misuse of the term 'perfect storm', but alas time, our old enemy, is against me today. I really should be pretending to do some proper work, or at least proof-reading (o frabjous day!) a rulebook for a chum.

So, to keep you going until I properly get my mildly-concussed bottom in gear, here is some actual fiction from the depths of the Pouch, what I had to write for my inevitably unfinished creative writing course. In true authorial fashion, I must acknowledge Mr JT of the Hughes Tool Co. for giving us the shockingly kitsch calendar which is the inspiration for this story:

Jan Zoiz CCCV And The Perfect Headgear

In the second year of her great reign, Her Majesty Jan of the line of Zoiz, three hundred and fifth to bear that noble name, stretched out upon her Plush Throne and yawned. The human courtiers cringed before that massive fanged mouth, fearful of her displeasure. Was it a yawn of boredom or fatigue? Only Pelvis, the hook-nosed royal vizier, claimed to understand the workings of the cat-regent’s mind, or at least only he was privileged to interpret her wishes.

‘Our monarch has spoken. She tires of the endless drudgery of court, and will have amusement.’

A shiver rippled through the assembly. Men and women stiffened involuntarily, their eyes flicking from the great, white, mutant feline, the size of an Old Time elephant, to the wooden cage suspended high above them.

‘Let the entertainments begin!’ barked Pelvis, and clapped his hands twice. The cage was lowered, and creaked as it settled on the marble floor of the throne room. The guards, armed with sturdy stun-prods, immediately went to work, unhooking the bars and prodding the inhabitants out to quiver before the court.

They were a sorry sight. Three captive off-humans from the atomic ruins, scraggy and pale, the telltale signs of radiation burns on their idiot faces. They huddled together, twitching their heads left and right as they scratched at the rough fur-suits into which they’d been sewn. Comical plate-sized ears adorned their heads, along with foot-long wiry whiskers, while long floppy tails drooped pathetically behind them. They grunted unintelligibly as they sought to escape the semi-circle of guards, but were trapped on all sides save for that which opened before the cat-regent herself.

Her Majesty’s vast wide-set eyes betrayed interest in the three playthings presented before her. A fluffy white tail the length of a man unfurled and began a slow, rhythmic motion from side to side. The mouse-people foamed and gibbered before Jan Zoiz CCCV, and scampered back and forth in a frantic frenzy, their sewn-on tails flapping behind them. The bloated cat-regent went abruptly stiff. Then shot forward. And the screaming began.

* * *

It was later in the day, and Her Majesty had retired to her private quarters to ponder, as Pelvis had put it, ‘weighty matters of state’. During this blessed recess, while servants were brought in to hose down the floor of the throne room and change the royal litter tray, the assembled courtiers took the opportunity to consult their sacred relic from the Old Time, and once again debate its obscure meaning.

‘And I say it is a scarf of finest mohair!’ roared Lord Mandible, a red-faced man with fat wet lips.

He jabbed a meaty, ringed finger at the holy icon before him, a large crumpled picture of a furry white cat, cryptically titled ‘Jan 2012, © Kute Kitties’. The paper was torn at the edges, ending raggedly at the bottom halfway through the cryptic word ‘Wednes’. Mandible gestured empathically at the cat, its flat open face and tiny pink nose portraying an ineffable sense of ambiguity. Was she sad or happy? Smiling or frowning? It was hard to say under all the fur. More maddening still was the unidentified and thus controversial object atop her head. Some said ‘woolly hat’. Others, such as the blustering Lord Mandible, said ‘scarf’. Still others said ‘neck of a baggy sweater’, but they were a small and oft-ignored movement.

‘My dear Mandible,’ soothed the slender Lady Tibia in a studied purr, ‘whilst we all admire the fervour with which you and other Scarfists put forth your beliefs, you must remember that the nature of the Perfect Headgear of our Most Regal Majesty has remained a mystery for three hundred and five generations of Jan Zoizes, or over five hundred human years. Do you honestly believe its truth to be revealed in our lifetimes?’

She arched an eyebrow at her rival.

‘Hattist thinking at its woolliest!’ riposted Mandible, flecking his nearest hangers-on with spittle. ‘You would have us sit upon our backsides and wait idly for the headgear to manifest itself, whilst the off-humans grow greater in numbers and raid ever closer to the walls of our Retreat? Is it not spoken in the Verse of Leo (22 July to 23 Aug) that “That which was lost shall be found, and unwelcome guests shall leave thy house”? Do you dispute that this clearly refers to the headgear of the line of Zoiz, and that its return will signal our deliverance from our enemies without?’

Mandible panted, his cheeks flushed and billowing.

Lady Tibia sighed indulgently.

‘Of course not. None here would dream of denying the prophecy. I am simply suggesting that speculation regarding the headgear is pointless until such time as our blessed monarch, mice be unto her, makes her wishes in this matter known. Surely you can wait until Presentment Day for her decision?’

Pelvis then coughed politely and edged forward into the knot of nobles.

‘At which point, my lords and ladies, I feel I should remind you that recess is over, and Her Majesty’s return is imminent, much refreshed from her afternoon nap. The evening entertainment is, according to my schedule, Chasing The Fluffy Thing Dangling From The Stick, so do please remember to stay behind the wire fence for your own safety. We wouldn’t want a reoccurrence of Lord Scapula’s unhappy accident during the reign of Jan Zoiz CCLIV.’

The court visibly paled and withdrew to the edges of the throne room.

* * *

‘I’m just saying,’ whispered Lord Mandible, wearing his special Presentment Day ceremonial scarf, ‘that perhaps Her Majesty could be persuaded in her choice of headgear today, rather than leaving it to chance.’

‘To chance?’ hissed Pelvis, so close to Mandible’s face that his hooked nose brushed the lord’s cheek. ‘Have a care that you do not speak treason, sir! The Furred One will choose her headgear this day, or she will not. It is not for such as we to influence her decision, as in the dark days of Jan Zoiz CCXXIX and the Heresy of the Fishy Hat! No, we will present such items as have been recovered from the ruins beyond the Retreat and leave Her Majesty to select one. Should she favour any such object and tolerate its presence upon her royal head for more than a few seconds before shaking it off in irritation, then prophecy shall be fulfilled, and we shall be delivered from the massing off-humans. If not, then we shall patiently await the next Presentment Day.’

‘You mean we’ll wait years for that over-grown, inbred monster to die, then drag its least boss-eyed mutant offspring up from the kittening chambers, proclaim it to be Jan Zoiz CCCVI, and go through the whole farce again!’

‘You go too far, Mandible! Never forget that I speak for Her Majesty, and I can voice her displeasure at you as easily as I can her approval. You would find the mouse-suit a most uncomfortable fit, I can assure you.’

Mandible actually blanched beneath his mottled jowls, and went silent.

* * *

The sounds of battle beyond the throne doors were becoming steadily louder, and ever more guards were dispatched to reinforce the defences, whilst inside the Presentment Day ceremony went ahead with mock serenity. Mandible shivered under his robes, while Lady Tibia stood in unseemly proximity to her bodyguard. Pelvis droned on, apparently oblivious to the off-human hordes baying in the distance.

‘And so it comes to pass, that Her Blessed Majesty, Jan Zoiz CCCV, shall choose the headgear from the offerings presented before her, and in so doing, deliver us from peril. So shall it be.’

The court stammered out his last words in response. The sounds of stun-prods and screams outside died away to be replaced by a hammering at the doors, and the nobles shuffled closer to their giant, bloated monarch. As if in approval, Jan Zoiz CCCV let out a silent but powerful fart, sufficient to render several courtiers insensate. Pelvis himself, long accustomed to the royal emissions, stifled a sniff and then leant in to whisper the secret words in a great feline ear.

‘Do you want a hat, girl? Do you? Do you? Choose a hat, go on!’

At first, the beast did not stir, whilst the grunting and pounding at the doors grew louder. Then, fantastically, she stretched and stood, padding down to the offerings set before her. The doors bulged in alarmingly and the courtiers pressed behind the Plush Throne. Jan Zoiz CCCV sniffed at the objects impassively. And then amazingly, she nosed at one, manoeuvring it improbably onto her vast head. Even as the doors burst open and the capering hordes of off-humanity fell vengefully upon the court, the great cat sat resplendent before them, modelling the Perfect Headgear.

Feebly tugging at the makeshift spear in his belly, Pelvis burbled out his dying words.

‘Bloody hell. It was the neck of a baggy sweater.’

THE END

Sunday, 29 August 2010

Shorter Cuts

Hello. Something a little different today - less wordage, more picturation.

Doubtless like myself, you sometimes find yourself enjoying a complex, multi-stranded three-hour film with around two dozen main characters, only to discover that you have to stop halfway through due to external time constraints. Doubtless also, you subsequently find yourself faced with the problem of coming back to finish your viewing experience at some later date, but balk at the thought of trying to remember what the heck was going on...

'Which one was he again?'

'Is she married to that one or the other one?

'Was she naked earlier on?'

'Why are there so many bland brunette actresses in this film?'

If any of those questions ring a bell, despair no longer, for help is at end. Or to be more specific, if you, like myself and the rest of the Monday Night Film Club, have only got halfway through Robert Altman's 1993 film Short Cuts and find yourself having to wait a full seven days before seeing the rest of it, help is at end.

For behold, the Short Cuts - 90 Minutes In: Entity-Relationship Diagram:



Don't make me explain it to you. If I have to, that means I have failed to make it intuitive, which is a poncey way of saying it should be fairly obvious to anyone with a reasonably functional brain.

I will admit though that it'll help if you have A) seen the first hour and a half of the film in question, and B) are not unfamiliar with the concept of functional data modelling. System Design Methodology purists will no doubt take me to task for failing to normalise the entity-relationships to Codd's Third Normal Form at the very least, for which I apologise abjectly. I was pressed for time.

Shabby as it is, I can happily report that the diagram really did come in handy during our viewing of Short Cuts Part Two one week later, for which I must thank Microsoft - the vendors of the excellent Visio diagramming tool - and certain other parties for their fine A3 colour printer.

And just to show that this wasn't just a one-off, here's another film I have made simple through the magic of entity-relationship diagramming:



See how much simpler that makes it to follow?

On a personal note, I have to say that I enjoyed drawing up the Short Cuts diagram far more than any normal person should. I think it may just be my perfect job. Pity it isn't...

Job offers welcome.


Post Script

How to upload a picture into your blog without the Blogger uploader crunching it all down and making your lovely intricate diagram a blobby lo-res disgrace:

Avoid the Blogger Add Image function like the plague.
Open up another window.
Go into Picasa Web Albums under your Google login.
Click on the more drop-down.
Select Photos.
Select the album and picture you want to use.
Click on Link to this Photo.
Set Select size to Large 800px.
Tick Hide album link.
Copy the contents of the Embed Image box.
Flip back over to Edit Blog and go into Edit Html.
Paste in the contents of the Embed Image box.
Pray to God you got that all right.
Retry an indeterminate number of times, varying every single step of the process through every possible permutation until you stumble ape-like upon the solution.

Saturday, 21 August 2010

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Epilogue



Just finished The Lost Symbol. Langdon ends up in the Washington Monument. I bloody knew it.

Here endeth the Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe.

Friday, 20 August 2010

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Friday again



Up with the lark at 7am. Well, get out of bed at half past actually. Much packing up and cleaning of flat, as Herself takes pride in leaving a place even cleaner than it was when we got there. To this end, I clean the inside of the washing machine we never used.

Leave a nice message for Landlord Jim in the guest book, and plod down the stairs and out of flat for last time. Climb up Tokyo Steps around 10 am to battle the first wave of castle tourists, and then trundle our trundly cases down to Waverley station. A last chance to spot a performer on the way down – the sadly-missed Timandra perhaps? But no. Onto the train and off we go. Bye-bye Edinburgh. Our Fringe is over, but for you it is just beginning.

Resolve to complete Dan Brown book by the time we get to Kings Cross, but am delayed by a compulsion to solve a pictorial grid puzzle by hand, rather than let Robert Langdon do it for me in a few pages. Doggedly solve puzzle, only to be left with a map which means nothing to me because I’ve never been on a bloody Masonic tour of Washington DC. Tch. Remember conversation with Herself from yesterday about how Edinburgh is crying out for a Da Vinci Code style mystery book. The plot, details and characters are as yet unclear to me, but it will certainly involved Alexander Hume’s shiny big toe, Greyfriars Bobby, and the mysterious carved letters in the flagstones of Castle Wynd South. May call it The Auld Reekie Enigma.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGk8aaKScxE

Ponder being misidentified as Australian again today, this time by an old guy from Dingwall. Beginning to get a thing about this.

Herself makes ample use of the free tea services on the train back to London, ‘to make up for the one she missed’ on the way up. Thus cosmic beverage justice is served. Try to watch movie on laptop of woman next to me, but am at wrong angle to enjoy properly. How selfish of her. Have brief exchange with gentleman across the aisle about Scott’s Grotto in Ware. It is a splendidly quiet and well behaved journey. Notice that man next to me is reading earlier Dan Brown book – Deception Point - am tempted to wave my own Dan Brown book at him and tell him ‘That’s quite good that is’, but am overcome with Englishness, so keep quiet.

In a mirror image of our journey a week ago, manage to spill tea over book, thus enhancing its crinkly brown appearance magnificently. No way I can offload it down the Oxfam shop now. They have standards.

Out at King Cross, along Victoria Line to Tottenham Hale and thence to home, where the heavens open in memory of Edinburgh as we get out of the train, though at least this decent home counties rain has the good grace not to gust sideways and soak me from the thigh downwards.

Home again, home again, and begin the post-hols ritual of unpacking, washing, getting of food and working through voicemails. Emails can wait for another bloody day.

Am quite adrift without a multicoloured timetable to structure my life.

Shows seen: none
Flyers collected: none

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Thursday



Have a nice dream about helping big fat seals who have been stranded in a narrow riverbed, by clearing a channel for them into deeper water. Then have a more disturbing dream about visiting a wildlife park where whey have genetically engineered some sort of cheetah/sabretooth tiger cross. Am talked by the keepers into entering the smilodon pen, in order to bond with them. They have two massive bloody fanglike tusks. The alpha male rears up on his hind legs, puts his front paws on my shoulders and proceeds to urinate over my legs, in some sort of dominance ritual. The keepers assure me this is to be expected, and I must not flinch. He finishes pissing all over me and I bolt for the door of the pen, only for another smilodon to nip me on the hand. Fortunately I lose no fingers.

Have no idea what that was all about, but suspect it may have been inspired by this here current advert:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zQ2o2nyVO0

Morning – realise that this is our last full day, and once again, we have far too much food in the kitchen. Suggest that Herself’s breakfast consists of two eggs and a snap pot of baked beans at the very least, while I resolve to get though half a packet of porridge oats, some chicken and forty-three tea bags in the remaining 24 hours.

Realise I have once again miscalculated my underwear requirement for the holiday by one day. Am now faced with a potential pants-less final day, unless I take the decision to either re-wear yesterday’s, or double up tomorrow for the journey home. After much deliberation, choose to put on my last fresh pair today and blag it tomorrow – if I can just make it home without being run over, I should be fine.

Can feel another elongated fingernail on the go. Arse. It’s the only part of the body which never heals once you break it, which is so unfair. Wish I had fingernail regeneration powers.

Take photo of Herself in toilet. In toilet, not on toilet. The preposition makes a world of difference. Photo is to demonstrate the tininess of the toilet. It is basically a cupboard where they have removed the shelves or what have you, and shoved in a loo. The room is literally the size of a toilet. If you’re knocking on six feet as I am, closing the door while sat down is something of a contortional operation. I have to position my knees just so, to stop the door from springing open. It’s so tight that the inlaid panels of the door make all the difference between privacy and dreadful exposure. If you rent this flat with someone else, make sure you are on very, very intimate terms. And depending on your specific ‘post-toilet’ routine, you may find it easier to open the door, stand and turn before attempting any papery hygiene rituals. Like I say, it’s cosy in here. Not only that, but the toilet also contains The Towel That Is Not A Towel – a tissue thin, totally unabsorbant tea-towel like object, which soaks up absolutely no moisture at all.

Your best bet is to wash your hands in the shower room opposite. This slightly larger cupboard perpetually smells of dampness and cabbages; no idea why. At least it has decent towels, but it also presents a problem for the toothbrushing person. There is a tiny shelf below the mirror and above the titchy sink. This shelf comes up to about chest height on me, and juts out from the wall a fair bit. Given the cramped confines of the shower cupboard, I find myself having to spit out the toothpaste with pinpoint accuracy, precisely calculating where the sink might be, since I can’t bend down past the shelf. It is all very perilous. A tip for gentlemen, you may actually be better off weeing into the sink in the shower cupboard rather than bothering to use the toilet.

This is my last blog from our exclusive flat on Tokyo Steps. Aaah. The last day of our Fringe week, which is weird, because the Fringe is going on for another two weeks. It’s like, Christmas is over now for us, but it’s just beginning for a whole load of other people, and hasn’t even begun for some others. Weird. We’ll be home tomorrow looking back on all the acts we’ve seen and wondering if we’ll ever see them again, when in fact we could conceivably hop on a train again and see them all over again. Weird. Expect there’ll be quite a come-down for us when we get home tomorrow, which is why it’s important to save some tablet and shortbread to keep that rush going as long as humanly possible. Have also saved a comic we bought from Forbidden Planet.

Do fabulously unselfconscious stretch in flat, accompanied by lion-like roar and out-loud narration of same act. Much to amusement of Herself.

Right, on with the final shows.

We walk down the royal mile to St Giles cathedral for a free, yes free, walking tour of a portion of central city. Much prefer historical walks to bloody ghost walks, which are rarely if ever scary , except for the first time down Mary Kings Close, before it became a bloody London Dungeon theme park. And that time we were shut in a crypt in Greyfriars Cemetery at midnight.

As is traditional, our guide is unmistakably English. Haha. Some good stuff about the city gaol, various gallows, and William Burke, whose skin is supposedly on display in the Surgeons Hall museum in the form of novelty book bindings. Our guide also mentions John Knox, whose statue we have seen several times around the city; all long robes, flowing beard, outstretched hand and Good Book. Had no idea who he was, but from the statue, I was immediately put in mind of the Lawgiver from Beneath The Planet Of The Apes. Apparently he was a firebrand Presbyterian, so I was almost right.

Needless to say, because we’re on a walking tour, it tips down. One woman on the tour insists on standing less than a metre in front of the guide as he gives us some history, while the rest of us stand a customary and respectable two metres away minimum. It is quite funny, but not as funny as the sight of her fighting with her ridiculous blue plastic poncho as the wind takes it up over her head.

http://www.edinburghfreewalkingtours.com/tours.html

Almost at end of the tour, notice that a young woman in a wheelchair has emerged from a hostel down on Cowgate, where we’re stood listening to some more history. Then notice she’s come down the ramp from the hostel and is right next to us, looking up the steep Blair Street leading off Cowgate and up to the back of the Tron. She actually starts trying to wheel up it somewhat weakly, and this is a fecking steep road, I dunno – 1 in 5 or something, I dunno. Have a moment of hesitation, then I see someone look over their shoulder at her as they walk by. Suspect am urged on by possible thought of someone else ninjaing my good deed, coz I’m suddenly in there, offering her a hand. Can’t really believe she wants to get up this hill, but amazingly she does, so find myself pushing her and her chair up it. It’s bloody steep, I can tell you, so am grateful she’s just a wee slip of a thing. She is very softly spoken and talks a bit funny. It may not be palsy or anything though - she does have a pierced nose and is clearly Scottish, so… Get her up to Hunters Square behind the Tron and onto a relatively level bit that she says she can manage Herself. Wave her off. Am now fairly glowing with sweat. Turn round to look down hill to Cowgate to see that historical tour has gone on without me. Am briefly disappointed that they’re not all stood there cheering me, but then spot that Herself has kindly waited for me, so I jog down the hill and feel well smug for helping wheelchair girl. Christ almighty, what a city to be a wheelie-person in.

Then back to the flat to eat as much beans on toast as possible in our last day, before setting out over to Princes Street for a show called Dig For Victory, supposedly a sketch show featuring crap superheroes etc. Again, the skies weep upon us, and we are fairly drenched by the time we get to the Voodoo Rooms, a rather swank bar just behind Princes Street. Turns out that the Dig For Victory chaps have suffered a manpower loss to the tune of two out of their four members, which has put a bit of a crimp in their sketchable abilities. But pluckily they have soldiered on, by hosting a random selection of performers from the Fringe. They do actually manage a couple of routines themselves – I like the one about the two skydivers finding out that they’re both first-timers, though it does peter out a bit.

http://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/event/10005520-dig-for-victory-sketch-show-free/

The first guest act is Thunderer, or at least the first 20 minutes of their hour long show. Yet another Victorian spoof, but this one is actually quite well acted and even better, it’s funny. Mainly about members of the Daily Jupiter newspaper investigating the Ripper murders. Shame we’re going home tomorrow, coz I would have liked to have squeezed them in properly somehow. Talk to them later having splodged back over North Bridge, and they say that they’re working on a Radio 4 show, so jolly good luck to ‘em. I bet they all say that though.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/theatre/thunderer

The second guest act is a handsome American lady called Scout something. She has a ukulele and does funny songs, though she seems disappointed that the ten of us in the audience don’t react with spontaneous recognition and mirth, soaked to the skin and bemused by her needy and somewhat neurotic performance as we are. Am wondering if she is the same Scout who is the daughter of Demi Moore and Bruce Willis, but suspect she could only be about sixteen by now. Unless I’ve fallen asleep for ten years during one of the more boring acts at the Fringe.

http://divamagblog.blogspot.com/2010/08/scout-durwood-at-edinburgh-festival.html

Herself’s umbrella has finally given up the ghost, and is now merely a dangerous wire octopus loosely wearing a green and blue tartan shawl. We purchase a new red tartan model and humanely dispose of the old one in a rubbish bin on Princes Street, though it protests and tries to brace itself against the bin opening, a bit like a man fighting against an open airlock in a Jerry Bruckheimer film.

Kill some time in the Advocate pub near the Tron, with a cup of tea and a quiz machine. This is where Dr Foot and HFM were found wankered last year, and we hope to recreate their success at the quiz machine. We manage to find a completely unplayed game on the machine and in so doing get our names up as first and second place. Result for us, I think.

Then over to the skanky Tron pub to see Alexis Dubus. Saw him last year doing his swearing show – this year it’s about nudity. Starts with him doing a portrait of an actual naked lady on the stage, so fair play to her. It’s well nippy down there too, coz they’ve had a/c installed this year, so now it’s too cold rather than sweaty and hot. He does a good show about nudity, and I am brave enough to keep hand up when asked if I’ve been naked in public and not drunk. Admit to naturist past, and am braced for much probing questions, but fortunately he is nice and spares me that discomfort. He seems a really nice bloke, and the content of his act is not so different in tone to one of Richard Herring’s, though without the self-regarding inner monologues and personal sadness. He does highlight the plight of that naked backpacker who’s still in a Scottish prison though, which is fairly cool of him. He ends the show by stripping down first to a ‘naked man suit’, complete with felt genitals, and then all the way proper naked along with the woman from the beginning. Jolly well done to them. He is a nice bloke and I wish him more success at the Fringe.

http://nakedwalk.org/

We then trot down to the Gilded Balloon quick smart to see Barry Cryer, who we’ve been trying to see for a couple of years, and have finally got tickets for. Only to find that the show’s been cancelled due to a family illness, which is a bugger. A bugger for the family member, really. Have most unworthy thoughts like ‘I wish we’d seen him earlier in the week, before whoever it was took ill/died/got hit by a car’. Isn’t that selfish? Too late to exchange tickets now though, because the Fringe office back on the Royal Mile is closed for the day and we’re going home early tomorrow, so will have to get refund when we get back home.

http://www.comedy.co.uk/fringe/2010/barry_cryer/

This leaves us with a Cryer-shaped hole in our splendid timetable, which we fill by seeking out the finest falafel restaurant in all of Edinburgh. I have a medium sized pepperoni pizza, which I will come to regret in the hours that follow. Confess to Herself that one of my unfulfilled Fringe fantasies is where we are sat down in some sort of foodery, the two of us at a four person table, and then a highly stalkable performer comes in and has to share the table with us. We are then perfectly at liberty to chat to them at length without the usual pressures of them being knackered post-show, or there being a long line of similar stalkers wanting to chat to them, or it just being to bloody awkward to walk up and say hello. This fantasy has yet to happen. Am thinking of staking out a table at a likely haunt like the City Café, and waiting.

The falafel/pizza experience on South Bridge does not adequately fill the Cryer-void within us, so we venture further south down Nicolson Street, past the now closed Forbidden Planet and its excellent diorama of the Tom Baker Dr Who arm-wrestling Davros, and back to the Black Medicine Coffee Shop where we saw CB earlier in the week.

We enjoy a jolly nice cup of tea with ginger cake and cookies, whilst I try to read what the girl sat in front of us is typing into her laptop. It’s a history of the Algerian war of independence against the French – I have to fight down the urge to clumsily remind Herself out loud about the time we watched The Battle Of Algiers on DVD. There are at least three people in here doing laptoppy activities – it must be the place to do such things. Begin to regret not bringing mine out with me, though suspect it would have got thoroughly drenched during the downpour earlier in the day. Speaking of which, jeans are completely sodden, so try thinking warming thoughts and rubbing thighs to dry them out. This does not look so clever in a public place like the coffee shop. Also spot Basil Fawlty chap from The Faulty Towers Dining Experience, sans-‘tache and in mufti, getting a cup of tea. Also see a man who might possibly be that American bloke we saw at the steampunk do at the Scala a couple of months ago, who did an overlong act involving odd bits of whirling machinery. But I did not feel that was a sufficiently flattering description with which to approach him, so unusually for me, we pass him by.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/theatre/faulty-towers-the-dining-experience

Have interesting conversation with Herself about nudity, and which performers from this year’s Fringe we would like to see naked. The capoeira boys come to mind, as do various posh girl actors from sundry Edwardian/Victorian/1940’s spoofs. We agree that Herring’s portly and doubtless befurred body should not be seen. Resolve to purchase a naked man-suit for Herself, along with the dinosaur suit.

Cryer time has finally been exhausted so we nip round the corner to The Oak pub, for a bit of folk, as per last year. The music is downstairs in the cramped confines of the Wee Folk Club, hosted by the genial fluting-voiced Paddy, and his long ginger and white beard. Come to stunning revelation that the Wee Folk Club is so named because it is a small club for folk music, not a club for leprechauns and pixies as I had erroneously thought for the last couple of years. Tch, it’s like Incantation all over again. Not to mention Larry Grayson’s mate Everard, the punningness of whose name having not occurred to us until it was pointed out by a comedian a couple of nights ago (Stephen K Amos, perhaps?).

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/music/festival-folk-the-oak-the-wee-folk-club

The random act on tonight is Blueflint, or possibly are The Blueflints. I’m not sure. Two ladies with full-size banjos and a fella on double bass. Needless to say a ukulele makes an appearance at some point. I swear we’ve seen more ukes this Fringe than any other piece of equipment apart from a mike stand. It must be because you can get one for only twenty quid (as seen in the music shop on South Bridge), and they’re apparently a piece of piss to learn. Herself promises that we will get one each when we get home, doubtless to gather dust along side our guitar and djembe.

http://www.blueflint.org.uk/home.html

Come up with a great name for a show – Ukulele-Li! It’s basically HP Lovecraft meets George Formby. Possibly involving Deep Ones attacking Blackpool. It writes itself.

Purchase a Blueflint CD as a present for the parents, and also as a way of disposing of Scottish funny money before return home, where such suspicious paper currency is rejected outright, even by the restaurant at work, which is in a Scottish bloody bank for Burns’ sake.

Nip out of The Oak with one song to go, coz we have a late appointment down Cowgate for our last show of the Fringe – A Nifty History Of Evil, which Dr Foot has already seen and recommends. We mooch up to the venue - one of the more disreputable clubs down under George IV bridge, and mosey inside, slightly confused by the bar-like activity going on, and the youth of its patrons (they were actually having to show their passports to the ape on the door, for God’s sake). Doesn’t look like a show is going on downstairs, and a quick trip upstairs results in me having an unintelligible exchange with a check-shirted, fluffy-haired youth, and Herself asking a half-naked heavily-tattooed man where the Evil show is. It’s plainly not on here. Maybe it’s been cancelled. We resolve to leave this increasingly loud and child-filled dive, and fight our way out. Thus our last show is a no-go. I briefly suggest, in a moment of madness, that we could go and see something over the road at the Scumbelly instead, but Herself snaps me back to sanity, and we skip home and climb Tokyo Steps for one last time, nodding to the hi-vis boy guarding the barrier at the bottom.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/john-robertson-nifty-history-of-evil

Walking up steps to the flat, spot flattened dog-end that has been there all week. It hasn’t moved, save to have gotten flatter with each successive footstep upon’t. Surely it should have been ‘washed’ down to the bottom of the stairs by now at least? In fact I think it’s actually one stair higher now than it was yesterday. Spooky. I fear it may start scratching away at our front tonight like something out of The Monkey’s Paw.

We get in and then realise we had the right venue for the Evil show, but the wrong time of day. The late night viewing was actually just down the road, but too late now. Ah well, time for a cup of tea (still thirty-seven bags to go) and a final in-flat blog. Refer to notes hastily scribbled on back of spare timetable whilst sat in the gloom of the Wee Folk Club, when realised I could no longer maintain all my to-be-blogged thoughts in my organic head. This must be how proper writers do it.

Shows seen: 3 + 1 tour
Flyers collected: 4

Wednesday, 18 August 2010

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Wednesday



Robert Langdon has now had a stone pyramid and a gold capstone in his possession for over 100 pages, but has failed to even unwrap the bloody capstone yet, let alone stick it on top of the pyramid. The padding in this story is a work of genius. He has just been whisked from Building A to Building B by a Negro Ex Machina, so am expecting him to end up in yet another historical DC building any chapter now.

Try to style hair like many of the young women we have seen, with parting starting just over one ear and fringe draped massively over forehead. Turns out I do not have sufficient length and weight of hair for this to work, and wisps are soon fluttering all over face. Fortunately lip gloss, the most adhesive substance known to woman, collects most of the loose hair by helpfully affixing it to my mouth.

Leave flat, down Tokyo Steps and cross Grassmarket. An early morning leafleteer spots our diagonal move away from him and plots an intercept course. Clever young devil. First flier of the day collected. Herself cowers behind me while I take the leafletty hit for her.

Off to Zoo, south of the Pleasance to see 2010: A Space Oddity. Turns out that Gavin Robertson out of Thunderbirds FAB is in it, so am expecting good two-man physical theatre. Show is a sort of 2001/2010 parody, with bits of Solaris and some amusing googly voiced aliens. Not as strong as his earlier stuff though, which is a pity. Don’t think anything could have topped Fantastical Voyage, which we saw at the Pleasance about 10 years ago. Years have not been kind to Gavin - once curly dark hair is short and receding, and big tum looks especially unappetising in cheap fancy dress silver spacesuit.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/dance-physical-theatre/2010-a-space-oddity

Have lunch in Auld Jock’s Pie Shop on Grassmarket. Very nice steak pie. Actually, it is more of a Gravy Pie, with Special Guest Star: Bits Of Steak. But most tasty nonetheless.

http://www.localdatasearch.com/edinburgh/old_town/cafes_snack_shops_tea_rooms/auld_jock's_pie_shoppe-12178344

Spot a picture of our ‘forgotten man’ from the BBC showcase night – he is David O’Doherty – no wonder I couldn’t remember his name. A comedian having a name like that at the Fringe is like being called like Jason O’Byrne or Brendan O’Oirish. Ten a penny. Actually he was quite good, now I remember him – did good little musical sketches with the aid of a Casio keyboard.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/david-o-doherty-somewhere-over-the-david-o-doherty

Have just noticed vast, black, thick hairs growing out of back of right hand. Damn them. Need to laser the little bastards out of existence sometime. In the meantime, a painful five minutes with the tweezers is required.

Next, off to the GRV on Guthrie Street - a secretive little venue which we’ve never been to before. Herself has cunningly planned three shows in the exact same room, one after another. So we only have to spend 20 minutes hanging around between each one. Genius.

First up is a live Collings and Herrin podcast, which I’ve listened to once or twice before. Richard Herring is very funny as ever, and away from a structured stand-up routine, is completely filthy and naughty, which is good. Andrew Collins is… what? A straight man? A feed for Richard Herring? Or just the guy who sets up the laptops for the podcast? I dunno. Trying to remember what else he’s done, and all I can come up with is a bunch of them poxy list programmes on Channels 4 and 5. Tch.

Man, podcasts are a piece of. No wonder the internet’s lousy with them. I could do one easy. If I wanted. And had a willing stooge like Andrew Collins. And knew how to do all the fiddly bits on the computer. Prospective podcast stooges partners, contact me via the usual channels, please.

Oh yes – Herring told us again about the time he was wanked off by an Edwardian ventriloquist’s dummy operated by Stewart Lee.

They both turn out to be nice chaps, so we summoned up the nerve to chat to them in the bar after the show. Didn’t buy any of Herring’s DVDs though, coz I couldn’t remember which ones I’ve already seen and am haunted by the memory of the DVD of him berating a middle-aged couple so horribly that they stood up and left . Not his finest hour. Herself dug out her timetable – a reliable conversation piece, and compared it to another woman’s timetable. Geeks of the Fringe unite.

http://collingsandherrin.blogspot.com/2010/08/pride-of-scotland-pts-1-3.html

Show #2 at the GRV is the Oompah Brass band, who we last saw at the Scala a few months ago for a Steampunk event. Highly entertaining – they do a fine Bohemian Rhapsody.

http://www.oompahbrass.com/Edinburgh.html

Show #3 is Bane, as recommended by Dr Foot last year. One man playing all the parts in a hard-boiled spoof, with another chap providing a live musical soundtrack on the guitar. Bruce Bane is played a young chap called Joe Bone, if you can believe that. He has a very expressive face and does some great American voices. Takes me ages to place his standard Bane-voice as that of Christian Slater. There’s also a Bane 2, which we must see some time.

http://www.whiteboneproductions.com/Bane.html

We finish our stint in the GRV, and nip back to the flat for a nibble. I have fifteen minutes to eat a hissingly hot microwaved shepherds pie. Mmmm. And Ouch.

Then to the undercroft (undercrypt?) beneath St Augustine’s church to see Bowels, which turns out to be a small cast doing a parody of Journey To The Centre Of The Earth. All the cast are female apart from the central chap, whose plumy Edwardian English accent periodically slips back to his presumably native Frankie Boylesque Scottish tones. There is a great bit when a ‘magnificent beast’ of a dinosaur marauds across the stage and into the audience, played by a young lady in a sweet fluffy green dino outfit. Delightful, as Herself would say.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/theatre/bowels

We carry on down George IV Street to the Gilded Balloon, for to see the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre, which Herself has been most looking forward to. Excellent as ever, though is a pity that he - sorry – they don’t do more of the Dr Who stuff as seen on YouTube. Hang around near the loos after the show for about ten minutes and are rewarded by the sight of slightly sweaty sock-puppeteer Kev Sutherland emerging from the gents. He is a very friendly chap, and surprisingly English. He thinks I’m Australian, which I get very occasionally; no idea why. We sing his praises and speak much of Dr Who, Torchwood and Life On Mars. Turns out that he is indeed the same Kev Sutherland who ran the Bristol Comic Con. He also did comic strips for the Red Dwarf comic and is currently working on the Beano, which is most cool. He is still most sweaty, so bids us a goodnight. Result.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/scottish-falsetto-sock-puppet-theatre-on-the-telly

Is now too late to see our last show of the night – Carnival Of Souls, which am quite glad of. Getting too old for these late nights.

Nip outside Gilded Balloon to get a late night crepe. The trick with crepes is to eat them quick, coz when they cool down, they look, feel, and presumably taste, like cold dead flesh.

Skip back to flat, swimming upstream against the tide of exiting tattooists and struggle to open the useless front door with its rubbish rattling loose lock. An intrigued/suspicious young military policeman comes down Tokyo Steps towards us and asks if we need a hand. We decline, but he hangs around anyway, watching us, as if we’re a couple of terrorists laden down with a plastic bag full of explosive semi-skimmed milk and highland shorties. I bridle at his military nosiness. It’s a bit like a scene from Inglourious Basterds.

Rubbish bags must be put out tonight, as flat is beginning to smell strongly of shepherds pie. Edinburgh continues to inexplicably smell of Weetabix. No idea why.

Apples continue to rot on kitchen table. Is degenerating into a war of attrition between Herself and I.

Shows seen: 6 (but should have been 7)
Flyers collected: 4

Tuesday, 17 August 2010

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Tuesday



Eyelashes: none anywhere.

Am woken in middle of the night by unwelcome shouting outside and above our flat, as if young (obviously) and foreign (possibly) people were running up and down the stone stairwell and then shouting to each other from the open doorway of their apartment above ours. Los bastardos.

Apparently fail to meet obligations re: scheduled sauce session. Do not even realise invitation to sauce is being extended until much later – was far too engrossed in adventures of Robert Langdon at the time. Instead gratefully settle for rub of aching shoulder, proving am both married and old.

Breakfast consists of local shortbread and last two chocolate hobnobs – the biscuit of champions.

Take over an hour to write up blog of Monday. Have not yet mastered art of précising. Half-wish I could have carried laptop around yesterday and blogged as we went, but stupid battery would have given out after 5 minutes. Treacherous device.

First show is The Ukulele Project at Scumbelly – turns out to be two young men and two young ladies, a spirited junior version of the UOoGB. Very good.

http://www.theukesarecoming.com/

Hanging around in Scumbelly for another of Herself’s many, many toilet breaks (am coming to the conclusion that we have markedly different liquid intake requirements), see a flyer for The Dog Eared Collective, which we need for scrapping. Picking it up, spot actual Dog Eared person herself handing out the flyers further along the room. Nip over and say hello. It is the one that looks like my cousin Lindy, possibly. She is very nice and friendly. Say we enjoyed show yesterday and tell her we’ve seen them before. God, I am such a sad stalker. Write email address down in her little book, so can be informed of London gigs. It seems almost all the performers here carry a little book, for the writing in of email addresses. The film people we met in Dead Head Comics did. Talking to nice Dog Eared Lady makes up a bit for not talking to Timandra yesterday.

Then off to Surgeons Hall for The Oxford Alternotives. What a name. Like the Be Sharps in The Simpsons. Very good, very young a capella group. Mixed boys and girls, which is much better. Have seen some all female ones and they sound so weak. The little monkey-faced lad is particularly entertaining.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/music/alternotive-a-cappella

Then back to Scumbelly for The Fitzrovia Radio Hour. Brilliant. Love the way they do all the sound effects as they go along. Think the two girls look lovely. Wish my hair was like theirs. The Mud Men Of The Thames and The Man Who Was TenMinutes Late are splendid Quatermass / Appointment With Fear parodies. Not too silly, which was nice. Well done to JT for recommending them when Arthur Smith cancelled his show.

http://www.fitzroviaradio.co.uk/

Have just made up a song called ‘Lasagne’. Basically, you hum the tune to ‘Tequila’, and then go ‘Lasagne’ instead. Genius.

Can hear American tourists talking outside flat window. How do they manage to talk so nasally? It must surely strain their mucus passages.

Have interesting conversation with Herself about our relative daily water intakes. Mine being a couple of cups of tea and a swig of Coke, hers being several litres of water, which she carries at all times. This explains the many, many toilet breaks. Some discussion ensues concerning our relative bladder sizes and the impact of uterus and ovaries on female bladder retention.

Down to Just The Tonic on Cowgate for Simon Donald off of Viz comic. The venue is yet another subterranean vault converted into a series of bars, toilets and performance areas. You have to climb down some steep wooden steps without bashing your head on the stone archway above for this one. Dr Foot has already seen Simon Donald, and has warned us that his reminiscences and anecdotes about Viz are more entertaining than his comical characters, and he’s more or less right. The characters are lightly funny, and it’s quite interesting to see how each one is a bit like Sid the Sexist, or Mr Logic, or Spoilt Bastard, but they’re not quite up to Steve Coogan standards. Once again, as in so many shows here, there is audience interaction; this time it is a hapless girl called Sarah who must endure banter with all five of Mr Donald’s characters, the poor mare. Am so glad have mastered the art of sitting well back in the shadows.

http://www.simondonald.com/

Simon Donald has overrun a bit, and then we get lost in the vaults of Just The Tonic, so we must trot to The Pleasance for Jonny Sweet. Herself is mental about being late and starts to motor through the crowds on Cowgate like a greased staffie. I discover that my fast walk is the same speed as her trot, so manage to keep pace with her without looking too foolish.

The Pleasance is as crowded as ever, but manage to locate correct venue with a few minutes to go. It’s that weird portakabin in the main courtyard with all the windmill things stuck on the outside.

Jonny Sweet’s show is a similar format to the Mostly About Arthur one from last year, but even more built around a laptop slideshow this time. He gets a lot of mileage out of his handy Mac, flipping around different files when his presentation on the decommissioned HMS Nottingham comes up short by some 15 minutes. The best bit is right at the end when he takes the laptop backstage but leaves the projector on, so we can see him on the webcam typing up some post-show notes. Most charming. I like the way he gives almost everyone a warm hug when they come in at the beginning. We manage to avoid this though.

http://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/jonny-sweet-let-s-just-have-some-fun-and-learn-something-for-once

Then wander all the way over to the Assembly Rooms on George Street for Richard Herring. The Assembly Rooms are a step up for him this year, and a welcome escape from his regular venue at the Scumbelly. The queue is very long, stretching down George Street. Show itself is entertaining as ever – it’s a rehash of a previous show, but fortunately we’ve not see the original Christ On A Bike, so am not sat there trying to identify all the old material. He seems as podgy as ever – wish he’d lose some weight. Interestingly, as he often bases the shows around his personal life, he doesn’t bang on about being single for once, so he really must be in a relationship, as Herself claims. Good for him.

http://www.richardherring.com/coab/

Finish with Mr Herring and back to flat. Listen to the Edinburgh Tattoo warm-up taking place a scant few metres beyond our window. It’s weird - there’s a sort of Ken Bruce-voiced fella who not only narrates the show itself (Here’s the massed pipes and drums of the Scots Guard! and all that), but also reads out all the dedications and happy birthdays for the audience as they file in before the Tattoo proper kicks off. That’s fair enough, and doubtless makes some old person’s day, but then it gets slightly odd, when he starts to ask if there’s anybody here from Australia, then New Zealand, then South Africa, then America, then Canada, then France, then Germany, then Poland, then Russia, then China, then India, then Japan, then every possible bloody country that somebody who is attending the Tattoo might have come from. He does a shout out to every bloody one – it takes over ten minutes – it’s very weird, and puts me in mind of a Manowar song for some reason.

http://www.darklyrics.com/lyrics/manowar/kingsofmetal.html#9

Herself breaks open the elderberry wine she got from the market on Saturday and we settle down to watch something on telly. The tradition is that we watch some crappy DVD that we’ve bought from a street trader down by the Meadows, but we’ve not been over that way this year, so have come up short. There’s a small supply of DVDs on the flat, but they’re all worryingly romcommy. Watch King Of The Hill instead.

Have a confusing conversation about snowballs with Herself, until I realise that I’m actually talking about speedballs – a drug cocktail- and she’s talking about snowballs – an imaginative sexual act involving one man and two women.

http://findityourselfyoufilthybugger.com

Remove two apples from rucksack – they have started to go funny. Feel bad about just throwing them out though, so leave them on kitchen table overnight, in the hope that Herself might have one – she is less intimidated by rotting fruit than I.

Shows seen: 6 – a much more reasonable number
Flyers collected: 14 – a bumper crop