Showing posts with label quatermass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quatermass. Show all posts

Thursday, 29 February 2024

My Brother the Mekon and Other Thrilling Space Stories

I contributed a couple of articles to online magazine Journey Planet, for their Dan Dare issue - #22 - in May 2015. This is one of my shallow dives into pop culture, padded out by some personal perspective and childhood nostalgia.

The other article is here:

* * *

When I was growing up, space was American. I was born the year of the Apollo moon-landing and in my childhood, all astronauts were American, both real and fictional. Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, the other guy, Steve Austin, even the Fantastic Four. It was years before I realized that for a time, at least in fiction, space had been somewhat British, in the form of Dan Dare and the Interplanet Space Fleet.

So I had absolutely no frame of reference when, on a family holiday on the Isle of Wight, my parents’ friend Dave popped my younger brother on top of his new stubby surfboard, hoisted boy and board up high and proclaimed him to be ‘the Mekon’. I had no idea what he was going on about, but apparently Dave was onto something because my dad seemed to agree that a skinny child in his swimming trunks sat atop an oval of toughened polystyrene was indeed compellingly Mekonish. I think, though memory may be betraying me here, that they got him sit cross-legged and drape his hands over his knees, just to compete the look. Certainly the two grown men then proceeded to parade him at shoulder-height across the beach, for we children were informed that this Mekon ‘hovered on a sort of flying disc’.

This then was my first encounter, however bizarrely, with the world of Dan Dare, and just goes to show what sort of impression his original adventures in Eagle comic had had on my father’s generation. As a sidenote to this I would recommend reading Eugene Byrne and Kim Newman’s excellent short story Teddy Bears’ Picnic, set in an alternate timeline where Britain rather than America fights the Vietnam War. In the story, the hapless soldiers - having grown up in 1950s Britain on a diet of Eagle comics - coin their own slang for the Viet Cong enemy - Treens. It makes sense that in an alt-history world where British lads are fighting in the jungles of Southeast Asia, that the Mekon’s alien race would become a dehumanising word for the enemy.

But I digress. Growing up in the 70s, kids like me learnt a few things ass-backwards: Paul McCartney was that guy from Wings who we only later discovered had been in some pre-Mull of Kintyre group called the Beatles; World War Two was all the rage thanks to endless repeats of Colditz, The Battle of the Bulge and Dad’s Army on telly whilst its predecessor World War One barely got a look-in; and Dan Dare was the widow’s-peaked, luxuriantly-maned action hero of early 2000AD progs - complete with a cool metal hand - rather than the clean-cut gent in a green uniform from our parents’ Eagle comics.

The Dan of 2000AD was a pretty cool character I thought, especially when the art duties had passed from Massimo Bellardinelli to Dave Gibbons, who gave him a much nicer haircut and that awesome metallic hand glove thing. As with the Mekon turning out to be a green dome-headed Treen, it was years before I found the metal hand glove thing was actually called the Cosmic Claw. Gibbons’ Dan looked more than a little like Lewis Collins, riding high at the time as one of the action stars of The Professionals on ITV. But 2000AD’s Dan stories didn’t really grab me, not as much as the mayhem, lunacy and mega-violence of the comic’s rising star Judge Dredd, and I don’t think I blinked an eyelid when he faded away with prog 126. By the following week, I was too engrossed in the adventures of new character Black Hawk - a Roman gladiator forced to fight aliens - to wonder whatever happened to the Pilot of the Future.

Fast forward many years, much as Dan himself did between Eagle and 2000AD, and I am now writing for Crooked Dice Games, founded by Graeme Dawson and my best friend Karl Perrotton. Their flagship game, a skirmish / roleplaying system called 7TV, draws on classic elements of cult TV and film, primarily British sci-fi, fantasy, and spy genres like Dr Who, James Bond and The Avengers. We used the conceit of a fictional television company that existed in the 60s and 70s to give the game both a rich shared universe between the ‘shows’ and to create an entertainingly tongue-in-cheek ‘real-life’ production history, where I indulged myself by casting actual actors, stuntmen and directors from the period to populate our made-up programmes. As an illustration, I cast hardman actor James Booth as the no-nonsense London copper Frank Skelton, and the boyish Hywel Bennett as DS Lenny Kennedy, in the Sweeneyish crime show The Beat.

In 2011, we started work on a chunky gaming supplement for 7TV called On Location, which would expand the core rules beyond the central settings which had tended towards extinct volcanic lairs and crime-ridden London streets. One of the new locations we would be covering was space, but from a strictly cult TV, pre-Star Wars viewpoint, so we needed to create a suitable show to personify the setting, which is where the spirit of Dan Dare re-enters the story.

Karl had already introduced the concept of A.R.C., the Albion Rocket Consortium, in the core rulebook, with an episode of our ‘UNIT-without-the-Doctor’ show Department X. In ‘The Shadow Over Space’, the department’s star agents Dr Hugo Solomon (played against type by legendary actor David Warner) and Pandora King (Jenny Hanley off of Magpie) joined forces with A.R.C.’s Dr Melody Lake to investigate sabotage aboard the lunar shuttle’s maiden voyage, uncover a secret cult and ‘face an ancient horror from beyond the stars’. So when we got round to developing a space show for On Location, A.R.C. was a natural fit.

We already had the basic concept for A.R.C., taking Quatermass’ fictional British Rocket Group and creating adventurous female rocket scientist Dr Lake for the starring role, played by the gorgeous Diana Rigg at the height of her powers. Now we set about fleshing out the show with cult sci-fi elements - from TV, radio and of course Dan Dare - to give it a unique blend that would feel not only like a loving homage to those influential sources, but also we hoped that would come across as a plausible - though sadly non-existent - show from the late 60s and early 70s.

Working with Karl and artist extraordinaire Wayne Peters, I had a fine old time creating a complete world, or more accurately solar system, for Dr Lake, Professor Kneale and the rest of the A.R.C. crew, from the lunar base Guinevere and rocketship Percival to alien threats like the sinister cerebral Venusian and his warlike Kreeg soldiers, and the faceless Martian force known only as ‘the Enemy’.

To give the show just the right look and feel of the genuine article - maybe around the late 60s as with other 7TV creations - we went the extra mile to come up with authentic-looking TV listings, script excerpts and even an Eagle-style double-page splash of the Percival, complete with knowingly-named technical details. Thus I present to you these following selections from 7TV’s A.R.C. series. Points will be awarded for every homage or shout-out you can spot.

 

5.45 Colour

A.R.C.

starring Diana Rigg

Darc Side of the Moon

by KIT PEDLER

Melody’s ship experiences a series of unexplained malfunctions whilst surveying a remote lunar region. Are they mere accidents, deliberate sabotage or the work of some sinister external force? When radio contact with Guinevere base is lost followed by a complete power blackout, tempers fray and suspicions grow that someone on board is not who they seem…

Dr Melody Lake                 DIANA RIGG

Cpt Jock Hampson             PATRICK MOWER

Valentine                            DAVID McCALLUM

Spinnaker                            ANTHONY MARRIOTT

Fred Roberts                       DAVID JACOBS

The Enemy (voice)            DONALD GRAY

Producer CHARLES CHILTON

Director GERRY ANDERSON


- A.R.C. -

- Darc Side of the Moon -

 

SCENE 9. MERLIN, EXTERIOR

An A.R.C. Merlin class transport seen from directly above, against the Moon's hidden face, cratered, shadowy and inhospitable. The Merlin seems to hang motionless against the lunar backdrop, as lifeless as the Moon itself.

 

SCENE 10. MERLIN, INTERIOR

The ship's cockpit, in near total darkness, save for dim starlight from the cabin windows and that of an electric torch, currently waving around somewhere under the pilot's control panel. Intermittent grunting and muttered curses emanate from somewhere down in the pilot's footwell, near the torch's beam.

It is Jock HAMPSON, on his back as if inspecting the underside of a car, holding the light in one hand and unscrewing an instrument panel with the other. A pair of smart feet appear behind him out of the darkness, followed by the disembodied voice of security officer Mr VALENTINE.

 

VALENTINE (in a clipped tone)

Haven't you finished that yet?

 

HAMPSON jerks with surprise, hitting his head on the instrument panel and swearing in equal amounts of pain and irritation.

 

HAMPSON (through gritted teeth)

It'd go a lot bleedin' faster if you didn't keep creeping up on me like that!

 

VALENTINE's eyes narrow and he is about to issue an acerbic retort when Dr Melody LAKE emerges from the darkened mid-deck.

 

LAKE

Enough, both of you. I can't worry about the ship and you pair at the same time.

 

She breaks into a smile and adopts a mocking, schoolteacherish tone.

 

LAKE

Don't make me come over there and make you sit apart. Now, was there something you needed, Spinnaker?

 

She turns back to the mid-deck, where technician SPINNAKER is standing in the darkness, his back to LAKE. Obscured by SPINNAKER's head, there is a faint reddish glow.

 

LAKE

Spinnaker..?

 

 

5.45 Colour

A.R.C.

starring Diana Rigg

Spaceship Venus

by GERRY DAVIS

A spaceprobe inexplicably plunging into the Sun is the first indication that all is not well with the solar system’s second planet, but soon Professor Kneale deduces that it is moving out of orbit, threatening to extinguish all life on Earth! The crew of the Percival, struggling to endure the fearsome heat of the Venusian desert, are mankind’s only hope of survival.

Dr Melody Lake                 DIANA RIGG

Professor Victor Kneale    JOHN MILLS

Valentine                            DAVID McCALLUM

Zara                                     WENDY PADBURY

The Venusian                     MICHAEL WISHER

Kreeg Overseer                  PAT GORMAN

Producer INNES LLOYD

Director VAL GUEST           

 

 

- A.R.C. -

- Spaceship Venus -

 

SCENE 12. VENUSIAN DESERT, EXTERIOR

The Sun, so much bigger in the sky than they are used to, beats down upon the A.R.C. crew as they trudge doggedly on. As blinding sunlight reflects off the metal of their suits, Dr Melody LAKE, ZARA Kneale and Mr VALENTINE find themselves navigating a series of deep, dusty dunes, not unlike quarries found back on Earth.

 

ZARA (panting a little)

Can't we rest a bit, Doctor? I'm terribly tired.

 

LAKE

Just a little further sweetie, I think I spotted some sort of structure in the distance where we can have a sit-down in the shade.

 

Mr VALENTINE, walking ahead of the other two, gives the tiniest of sniffs at this. He knows as well as LAKE that shelter from the harsh desert is a long, long way off.

 

EFFECT: A distant high-pitched humming coming closer.

 

Mr VALENTINE turns to the approaching sound then drops to a crouch, motioning for the others to do the same. Both he and LAKE draw their pistols as they squint up the slope of a dune to where the humming noise now emanates.

 

EFFECT: Clouds of sand blow down off the top of the dune, as if a helicopter were landing somewhere out of sight.

 

The humming dies down as the three astronauts cautiously crawl to the top of the dune and peer over the sandy ridge. Not far away, a curious metallic platform seems to have settled on the sands. It is flat and disc-like, about the size of a car, with a single rail running around at waist height. It seems to have settled into a shallow dusty depression of its own making.

Disembarking from the hover disc are four alien KREEGS - hairless, wide mouthed and devoid of expression. Each one unslings an odd lamp-like device as they fan out, searching the dunes.

 

ZARA (panicky)

They're bound to find us! We've got to get away!

 

LAKE (laying a reassuring hand on ZARA's arm)

Tish, but we haven't introduced ourselves yet! Mr Valentine, if you wouldn't mind..?

 

VALENTINE nods at her unspoken suggestion and scrambles back down the dune, circling around. LAKE straightens up, dusts herself down and begins walking over to the nearest KREEG.

 

 

How many did you get? Did you spot our nod to the Mekon, and who I cast as the actor to play him, and why?

As Dan Darish as A.R.C. is, our most obvious homage to the Pilot of the Future appears in another 7TV show altogether. Bluntly pitched as ‘Charlie’s Angels meets Thunderbirds’, The Daredevils stars three sisters - glamourous Diana, roguish Katrina and tomboy Charlie - who have inherited their father’s love of high-flying adventures. Aboard their futuristic Dareplanes, these fearless female flyers respond to emergencies around the world at the behest of their perpetually off-screen daddy, who communicates with his ‘devils’ via long-distance speakerphone.

The family name? Dare, of course.


 

- THE DAREDEVILS -

- Operation Skyhawk -

 

SCENE 1. DARE MANOR, INTERIOR. NIGHT.

Night-time in stately Dare Manor.

PAN across the hallways, reception rooms and gallery and library.

Moonlight through tall leaded windows illuminates suits of medieval armour, stuffed animal heads, portraits and opulent furniture.

PAN past a framed photograph of three young girls grinning for the camera, a man kneeling behind them, his face obscured by a replica spacecraft standing in front of the photo.

 

 

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

The Chocolate Ocelot's 2015 Fringe: Day Four

Tuesday 11th August 2015


Jon Ronson: So You've been Publicly Shamed

Assembly Rooms, Princes Street

Went to the excellent Jon Ronson talk on public shaming. They played Uptown Funk before he came on, which made me worry that I'd booked to see entirely the wrong Ronson.

He's so splendidly shuffly and unprepossessing. It feels less like he's putting on a dweeby act to sucker people in, which is the vibe I get from Louis Theroux.

Fascinating stuff about people who said something dumb and then got pilloried online by thousands of strangers, notable Justine Sacco. The democracy of social media turns to mob rule.

There was time for a Q&A at the end, and I'm pleased to say that Ronson's old investigation into the Bilderberg Group, Bohemian Grove and the great stone owl of Moloch came up.

Main thing I took away from this though was that I should not go anywhere near something called 'twitter'. Not even with somebody's else's bargepole.



Kevin McMahon: Quantum Magic


Gilded Ballon, Teviot

A pleasant hour spent in the company of this research scientist turned stage magician. Excellent sleight of hand and misdirection - his card and coin tricks are extremely deft.

The science bits don't always come across so well; perhaps a little dry. Maybe that's just me - it's halfway through our week already and the old brain is starting to calcify. Too many new experiences, not enough RAM.

Nice little bit of 3D specs magic at the end.

I bumped into crime writer Val McDermid as we left the Gilded Balloon. I immediately shook her hand, said I loved the books and especially her radio series on forensics. In retrospect, this may have come over a bit too full-on and I apologise.

She had very cold hands, by the way.


Thrones! The Musical


Assembly George Square Studios

Whistlestop tour through the juggernaut that is the Game of Thrones TV show, brought to us by Baby Wants Candy. A talented cast portrays both rabid GoT fans about to watch the final episode and all the major characters.

Some excellent strong voices and funny songs. I kinda got lost in the 'names of every character you need to know' number, but that's only to be expected.

The white walkers' N-Sync number and Cersei's walk of shame (somewhat reminiscent of a naked Aunty Val in League of Gentlemen) were particular highlights.

Had a particularly fleshy crepe afterwards, and struggled to finish it before its cooling rubbery texture revolted me to my core. When will I learn...

Tom Neenan: The Andromeda Paradox


Pleasance Dome

Having seen his The Haunting at Lopham House (a comic pastiche of MR James and Woman in Black type ghost stories) last year, I really wanted to catch Tom Neenan's one-man parody of classic British sci-fi. And as it mainly spoofs my beloved Quatermass and the Pit, I was so there.

Unassuming scientist with father issues Bernard Andromeda is called to investigate a curious excavation in London's Devils' Crescent tube station. Encountering a plant-loving (no, really loving) German botanist, a loyal female assistant and a cute tiny green thing along the way. He's an excellent physical performer.

My pick of the day for sure. One for my 7TV chums.


Hal Cruttenden: Straight Outta Cruttenden


Pleasance

Not sure what I expected from Hal Cruttenden. I'd heard him doing pleasantly amusing schtick on Radio 4, probably in a lazy quiz-format show where a panel of four comediators are asked a series of open-ended thematic topics and are assigned completely spurious points at the end of each round like anybody cares. But I rant digress.

I rather liked his mixture of straight-camp musings on fatherhood, public school and gangster rap, all delivered with a decidedly cherubic grin. His stance on a particular social media phenomenon (that of annually commemorating a parent's death) is one I heartily endorse.


Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre: Minging Detectives


Gilded Balloon Teviot

Now don't get me wrong: I love the Socks. We've seen them many times. And they went down a storm this evening, one woman sat behind us particularly howling with glee.

But I reckon I've seen the act one time too many now - even with new material about TV detectives this year, it is largely the same basic format (of course it is, it has to be) of a sock puppet Abbott and Costello in squeaky voices.

Or it could simply be that it was my sixth show of the day...


Will Seaward: Spooky Midnight Ghost Stories II

Gilded Balloon Teviot

Midnight. So tired now, so very tired. Why did I agree to a seventh show? Why?

Will Seaward's very good. Avuncular, in a Gelliant Gutfright (look it up) sort of way. Everyone else was hooting and loving his comedy tales of silly spookiness. But I was stuck in the very front row, hallucinating with exhaustion and eyelids drooping heavily, longing for bed.

Maybe he could do a spooky 6pm ghost story show for weaklings like me...


Fin

Back to base for shortbread and Secret Wars comics.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz


Friday, 13 August 2010

The Chocolate Ocelot's Fringe - Friday




Should probably say up front that Herself has persuaded me to make a daily blog of our week at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. That should make the first few paragraphs a little less confusing.

Up stupidly early. Herself cannot sleep. Panic that a power-cut will leave snake bereft of heating lamp during our absence and he will freeze to death. In August.
Arrive at Kings Cross far too early, catering to Herself’s fear of train cancellation and other latenesses.

Discover we are booked into first class coach – surprise treat from Herself – hurrah!
Share table from London to Peterborough with mother and young daughter. Daughter happily playing with Tinkerbell activity book, which does look rather fun. Mother seemingly wincing in embarrassment at daughter’s noise, but honestly she was no trouble at all.

Heft laptop out of bag in order to read naughty scanned-in comics en train. Disappointed to find the power points on the train aren’t working. Boo hiss. Laptop battery depletes within five minutes, four minutes of which is taken up by it powering up. Pants.

Resort to reading new Dan Brown book – The Lost Symbol. Intrigued by plot as ever, predictably annoyed by shitty characters. ‘Langdon completed his regular fifty laps of the Yale swimming pool before breakfast. He was trim, an all-American water polo player.” Gack. What’s the betting he’ll end up in some water-based peril before the book is through? Not as bad as the clumsily foreshadowed parachuting episode in Angels And Demons though.

Mother and daughter replaced at Peterborough by elderly husband and wife. She is plump, overly tanned and has several scars on chubby arms, as if someone’s had to surgically remove malignant melanomas. He is ruddy and has a neat white moustache, not unlike Windsor Davies or that bloke who’s really the dad of the guy from Coupling. Oh you know, the one with the funny eye. He does not speak too much, but we know his name is Gordon. We know this because his wife uses it in every sentence. And she doesn’t shut up. The poor bastard.

Herself is reading a worthy scientific physio book. Try to look interested. Am reading about Dan Brown’s latest freak killer – this one’s a murderous tattooed mega-mason.

She passes me a note asking if we should tip the first class coach staff. Am reluctant, because even though one of the chaps was most entertaining and topped up our complementary mugs with a cry of “Coffeelina? Milkalina?”, one of the other blokes was a surly miserable bastard who looked like he’d been dismissed from a North Sea rig for overbearing macho behaviour.

Pass note back to Herself, having drawn a willy on it. I laugh.

A single man across the aisle is reading a beaten up copy of Heart Of Darkness and is wearing a fabulous multicoloured shirt. I approve of both. He drops his apple and it rolls under our table and against my feet. He beckons for me to throw it to him, but Gordon’s half-helpful outstretched hand deflects my underarm toss, and the beleaguered fruit once again hits the floor. How soon I plummet from hero to zero.

Fat woman continues to harass poor old Gordon about whether they should go and see Tap Dogs or Annie (starring Su Pollard) for her birthday. Gordon grunts and tries to finish his Daily Mail scrabble puzzle.

Mrs Gordon mercifully falls asleep, and then less mercifully knocks her half-full beaker of Diet Coke over the table, somewhere near Berwick Upon Tweed. Fortunately my Dan Brown book and freshly-washed jeans soak up most of the liquid. The Gordons fail to apologise.

We snooze. We reach E D I N Braaa. Dan Brown book has swollen to size of phone book. Recognise Robin Ince getting off the same train as us and almost catch his eye, but then realise he is somewhat mediocre comedy-wise, and fortunately he passes us by. Mainly being “Ricky Gervais’ mate” is no grounds for a comedy career, unless you are the legend that is Karl Pilkington.

Up the hill to the Royal Mile, and heft our cases into our castle-overlooking apartment. A quick loo break later it’s down to the Sainsbury’s on Morrison Street to stock up on Custard Creams and some other less essential foodstuffs.

Return to apartment just beating the heavens as they open somewhat torrentially. Haha – fuck you, rain :)

First cup of tea in apartment. Blag the Wee Bobby mug.

Worryingly, am beset by unsociable wind condition. Hope no-one notices. Too late. Herself detects situation using her amazing nostrils.

First show – Toby Hadoke at the Underbelly. Man I hate the Underbelly – three or four identical floors of damp vaults bodged into performance areas and bars, lots of bars. Every year the Underbelly becomes the lowest point of the city into which all the young and dumb come to drink themselves stupid and annoy the arse off me when I’m trying to enjoy a late-night show.

Toby Hadoke is funny, inoffensive, and a bit specialised. That’s to say, it helps if you already know that only two episodes of the original Quatermass Experiment TV series survived the BBC’s wiping policy. He is also a stickler for the correct placement of apostrophes, which I applaud of course. His Now I know My BBC show is a bit like his Dr Who show which we saw a couple of years ago. Funny, a bit sad, but generally upbeat. I do think he overplays the misty-eyed moral of the story at the end of the show though, just like when he got a bit mawkish doing Dr Who. It just doesn’t feel genuine when he starts pausing and gulping and tearing up. Be a bit more English man! And swear a bit more. It was definitely lacking a well placed Fuck or two.

The main thing is though… I could do what he does. I could. He’s only talking about telly from the 80’s in a slightly amusing way. It’s so easy. So he’s got psoriasis; I’ve got eczema. And I can trump him with the TG card, if I so wished.

Apparently he’s met all the people who make Dr Who, the jammy swine.

http://www.tobyhadoke.com/now-i-know-my-bbc/

Then we have 20 minutes to trot across town to the Ghillie Dhu off Princes Street to see Frances Ruffelle, a massive crush of mine from the 80’s, ever since the school Dance production of Les Miserables. On way, impress Herself with ability to identify someone as being oriental from the back (it’s just something about the shape of head).

The Ghillie Dhu is a strange multi-level bar-restaurant, peppered with candlelit dining tables and nice comfy sofas. It looks like a converted church. After some delay, Frances Ruffelle, my teen heart-throb, comes on. She is still well fit, but a looking a bit ropey around the facial area. And the hair is all big and wild, doubtless to show she is a free spirit. A very loungey hour ensues, consisting of singing on top of pianos and jiggling amongst slightly embarrassed male members of the audience. The music steers dangerously into jazz-infested waters on several occasions, but the rest of the time it is nicely bluesy/torchsongy. A Scottish-Chinese dude and his mate wander in after the show starts and chatter and text throughout. He rattles the ice in his glass every time Frances goes past. This may be his cultural way of showing admiration. Or maybe he’s just a dick.

At one point, Frances Ruffelle digs out a dusty old cloth cap, and I think she’s going to do some numbers from Les Mis, but instead she just does a quick spoof of the opening lines of that one about being alone (doesn’t narrow it down much, I know…). The show ends and I’m glad I got to see her up close (jiggling boobs and all), but am unsure if it was wise to revisit an old crush. She’s well-preserved and has a great voice, even though she only did that great little-girl tremulous thing with her voice once or twice. But she did look, well, a leetle bit skanky.

http://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/event/10004811-frances-ruffelle-beneath-the-dress/

Wander past Miss Behave’s The Crack venue on the Norloch and get to the new Assembly Rooms/Hall/Whatever to see Tripod Vs The Dragon. Have no idea what to expect. Should have expected a fire alarm and a forty-five minute delay, coz that’s what we got. Herself starts to slowly starve, so she scampers off in search of food. Blag some jelly beans from young ladies advertising an improv musical show. Pretend to promise to come the next day, though am secretly averse to improv after too many traumatic incidents at the Comedy Store in Leicester Square. Herself returns with choccie bars to stave off hunger pangs.

Eventually troop into converted ancient lecture theatre. Tripod Vs The Dragon are surprisingly good. Turns out to be a comedy musical re-enactment of a D&D adventure. They even go on about Edition 3.5 and rolling up stats. The bespectacled brunette with the three Aussie guys has an amazing voice, a bit Cerys Matthewsy, and does a good song about being a big ol’ red dragon. View of stage largely obscured by enormous bobbing head of Tallest Man In Edinburgh sat directly in front of me. Unforch we have to sneak out before the end, coz it started so late. Manage to escape without being mocked. But we will never know what happens after the bit where the fighter has stabbed the red dragon lady with the spear of knowledge.

http://www.3pod.com.au/main.htm

Trot back to Underbelly for last show of the day – Sound & Fury’s Private Dick. It is now 11:30 pm, and Underbelly reeks of beer. This is only the first day – hope we don’t have any more laties here, or it’ll be like the Bethany Black gig from last year – absolutely ruined by drunken young knobheads in an audience of twelve people.

Sound and Fury dragged me up on stage last year during their Sherlock Holmes show, in an hilarious mix-up between me and Herself who was the one who had actually volunteered pre-show. This time round it’s a much more ramshackle affair – this is clearly only the first or second time they’ve done their gumshoe spoof. Much fluffing and forgetting of lines, but all managed with much good heartedness and gusto, so all is forgiven. Musical numbers not so hot, and a fair bit of padding to stretch material out to an hour. But at least they didn’t get me up on stage in front of a hundred people to play a musical hall performer this time.

http://privatedick.info/

Clear out of Boozybelly at 12:45pm, knackered and starving. Have had nothing to eat apart from Cadbury’s Dairy Milk, and Herself is starting to go vague and peculiar. Soon the madness will set in, so we locate a late night foodery on Grassmarket and buy some nosh. Back to apartment for beans on toast (me) and cold tin of macaroni (her). Watch half an hour of The Land That Time Forgot. Way too much time wasted by McClure faffing around on a Nazi U-boat. He should be in with the dinosaurs by now. Shattered – fall asleep reading crinkly Dan Brown. 150 pages in and very little has happened. There is a severed hand in a building. Robert Langdon spends a lot of time talking to a tiny objectionable Japanese woman. Another woman goes to a lab in a warehouse and has lots of flashbacks. The tattooed giant is mysterious and annoying.

Remember I had two apples in rucksack all day which would have staved off starvation earlier. Bum.

Shows seen: 4
Flyers collected: 8