Malmö...

On Saturday morning Stuart and I took the short train journey from Copenhagen to Malmö to stay with Bryn and Andrew. The guys live in the Turning Torso which is an amazing building and the tallest in Scandinavia.

We were treated like kings - waited on hand and foot which was lovely. Not long after we arrived we took the bus into Malmö centre to visit a museum including a photo show of Swedish Dads. After that we walked around historic Malmö and visited one of the famous coffee shops for cake.

In the evening we were treated to dinner at Bastard - a rather lovely restaurant in downtown Malmö. Stuart was all for nicking one of the napkins but we managed to restrain him.

On the Sunday we were treated to a full English breakfast followed by a walk around the sea front and the beach. It's such a lovely little place. We even ventured out to the sea spa but resisted a dip.

A lovely long weekend away.

Copenhagen: First Full Day...

Stuart and I had a lovely time in Copenhagen. Bryn came to meet us at our hotel and then we walked and walked. It was rather chilly but we had great fun walking up the twisting The Round Tower, visiting the photo-opportunity that is The Little Mermaid and walking along beautiful Nyhavn. In the afternoon Andrew joined us and we visited hippy commune Christiania and walked some more. In the evening I treated us all to dinner at Fuego Dansk http://www.fuego.dk/home/#fuego for steaks which were lovely. The temperature dropped very rapidly while we were having dinner and the fog rolled in so we headed back to the Admiral Hotel for an early night.

Copenhagen: Those First Impressions...

It was a fairly smooth BA flight from Heathrow terminal 5 with just a few bumps on the way. Copenhagen Airport was quite smart and we sailed through very quickly to easily find the metro station.  We'd prepaid for two 24 hour City Passes (just turned up as a text) so we were good to go. Just 8 stops into the centre of town and a short walk and we were at the rather magnificent Admiral Hotel. It's an old converted warehouse and certainly had the wow factor. 

We'll be having breakfast in the Salt restaurant shortly and Bryn is coming over from Sweden to meet us in the hotel lobby at 10-30am for our day out in Copenhagen proper. Andrew is joining us later too. 

Dildos and Doggies...

Dogs demonstrate their failure to understand phallic symbolism. Aww bless 'im, who's hungry for cock? Is it you? Yes, it is!

Doctor Who - Class...

As we all know by now Doctor Who will be mostly absent from our telly screens in 2016 - but word has it the new spin-off, Class, is "brilliant". Damian Kanavagh - digital controller for BBC Three says that writer Patrick Ness and producer Brian Minchin have an "amazing vision" for the series.

"I've read some of the scripts, I've met and talked to Patrick and Brian, and I think their vision for it is amazing," he said.

​Class ​will set in ​Doctor Who​'s Coal Hill School and will follow its students as they battle intergalactic monsters and other sinister villains. A sort of Sarah Jane Adventures. Which in my book is a 'very good thing.'

The Painkiller...

Last night Stuart and I went to see The Painkiller at The Garrick theatre in London's glitzy West End.

Hmmm.

The star voltage of Kenneth Branagh and Rob Brydon is the essential ingredient in Sean Foley's adaptation of a French farce Le Contrat by Francis Veber. Best known as the author of Le Diner de Cons, Veber specialises in creating double acts, and here two very different men in adjoining hotel bedrooms become unlikely buddies. Brydon is the "one-man natural disaster zone" Dudley, a failed photographer from Swindon who is determined to kill himself because his wife has left him for her psychiatrist. Branagh's svelte hitman Ralph has no need of anyone or anything other than an elegant suit and his rifle. When Dudley insists on involving him in his personal problems, Ralph's indifferent veneer is dented despite himself. The two begin to swap personalities, even exchanging clothes under the pressure of circumstances.

While the plot setup is cumbersome, it builds to a choreographed sequence of mistaken identities, confusion and pure slapstick, culminating in the injection of horse tranquilliser G by the psychiatrist Dent (Alex Macqueen) that transforms Ralph into a jelly-legged contortionist. Branagh staggers and spins across the stage with the ease of a rubber doll, and one with impeccable comic timing. Mind you I've seen enough people on G tp know that Branagh hadn't.

Into the mix come a policeman (Marcus Fraser) who ends up in the wardrobe before being kicked around by Ralph, then Dudley's wife Michelle (Claudie Blakley), who is beginning to have second thoughts about her hapless husband. All are observed by the mincing hotel porter, played by Mark Hadfield, whose eyebrows raise an inch higher each time he happens upon the tussling men in increasingly compromising clinches on the bed.

"This man has got loser written all over his face," says Macqueen pointing at Branagh, and it brings the house down. But gags about Ralph's thin lips and Dudley's penchant for singing Chris de Burgh's Lady in Red to his unresponsive wife are not quite sharp enough. At times the script has the dated feel of a 1970s sitcom. The physical comedy is the point, of course, and director Sean Foley delivers it unstintingly. Branagh and Foley, who are co-producers here, have collaborated successfully before on The Play What I Wrote, but it is hard not to wonder whether Brydon should have been enlisted as a co-writer and given himself some funnier lines.

Not really recommended. Unless you find French farces with people-dropping-their-trousers-for-no-reason-at-all funny. Which I do - but only when I'm drunk - which I wasn't.

Night Tube edging closer...

Night Tube edging closer... two down, two to go.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-35744841
RMT ✔
ASLEF ✔
TSSA
Unite

Welcome Home, Captain Fox!...

Last Friday night Stuart and I went to see Blanche Mcintyre production of Welcome Home, Captain Fox! at the Donmar Warehouse in London's glitzy West End.

Set in 1959 this is a loving homage to the golden era of the American comedy. But this particular nugget of gold doesn't so much brightly shine as mildly shimmer.

Captain Jack Fox, believed missing in action in the fields of France 15 years before, is about to be reunited with his family in The Hamptons. But is this really Jack Fox? And if it isn’t, who is this man? And why are there 22 other families so intent on claiming him as their own? And do we really care?

As a rather limp imitation of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest this has been produced as a fairly shallow piece of theatre. That said, there are some laughs to be had - not least after the consumption of a few glasses of wine and usually at the expense of the play's own Mrs Malapropism (Mrs Marcee Dupont-Dufort) played by Katherine Kingsley. “You do say the ‘t’!”

Welcome Home, Captain Fox! is downright silly and perhaps lost any biting social satire in it's free adaptation from the more complicated French source play Le Voyageur. A brave effort, well cast but not as funny as it should be.

The Maids...

Last night Stuart and I went to see The Maids at the Trafalgar Studios in London's glitzy West End.

Written by Jean Genet in 1947 the play, based on a true story, is a sexy, violent, profanity-ladened study of power, race and servitude. Two black maids (French, sisters and maybe lovers) play S&M games acting out the killing of their white mistress. The twist is that the maids not only want to kill their mistress, but also wish they could be her.

The play opens with them fantasising about doing both – a sort of play within the play. Claire, dressed as Mistress, is ordering Solange around. Solange, dressed as a maid, resists and insults her, then pretends to strangle her. They repeat this charade whenever the Mistress is away and the line between fantasy and reality blurring more and more each time.

When the Mistress does return she belittles them and denigrates them only inspiring the maids' hatred and love/hate fantasies all the more. It's a complicated, highly dysfunctional and toxic relationship. But how will it end?

Superstar director Jamie Lloyd has brought together a superb all-female cast of Uzo Aduba (yes, her off of Netflix’s Orange Is the New Black), Zawe Ashton (yes, her off of Channel 4’s Fresh Meat) and Laura Carmichael (yes, her off of ITV’s Downton Abbey). Lloyd's direction is excellent as ever with jolting lighting changes and energised sound-cues. Threatening dance music pounds away at times, summoning a mood of enveloping menace.

But the night goes to the three female stars who are all simply transfixing. They spar, they lunge, they attack, they spit, they swear, they act their beautiful socks off.

OK, perhaps we could have done with an interval - two solid hours on the Trafalgar Studios's seats would test the hardest of bums - but it was two hours very well spent.

Recommended.

Arsenal Woes (Again)...

Yeah, what I said yesterday but even more so.

A dire 2-1 defeat to a mediocre Swansea. I didn't join in the booing at the end of the match (that helped no-one, not least the players) but I share my fellow supporters' frustrations who did and at the end of the day how else can we express that frustration than at the game? I'm sure Mr Wenger doesn't read my blog. :-)

Maybe we should blame the mascot. Yes, let's turn on our mascot. The campaign for #GunnersaurusOut starts here!

But if we ditch Gunnersaurus who could possibly replace him? There aren't internationally renowned and talented mascots available at the drop of an over-sized red hat. We had our chance when Borussia Dortmund's Emma the Bee became briefly available last summer but isn't just typical of Arsenal that they dithered and we lost her to Man City.

Arsenal Woes...

Once again February seems to be the undoing of Arsenal's ambitions across all footballing competitions.

Losing to Barcelona 2-0 last week perhaps wasn't unexpected but losing to United at the weekend 3-2 when they are frankly a spent force at the moment was just dire.

Our team seems to have the talent - so what could possibly be going wrong? Poor choice of players? Lack of motivation? Dwindling team-spirit? All these issues are down to one man. The manager.

So Arsène - sort it out; or ship out!

This evening we play Swansea at home and they say it's going to rain. So one way or another it's going to be a stormy night in North London tonight!

Uncle Vanya...

Last Friday night Stuart and I went to see Robert Icke's production of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya at the Almeida Theatre in London's glitzy Islington.

We loved it - marred perhaps a little bit by a broken speaker that at one point seemed to want to drown out the prose and infuriate the audience. Still, stuff happens in live theatre.

The acting was top notch with special mention needing to go to Tobias Mezies as the Doctor who at one point stripped to his pants and drunkenly danced to Iggy Pop's Lust for Life. Oh, did I mention it was an updated Anglicised version?

The slowing rotating set literally gave us a fresh perspective on the action. Although when I say action I really mean inaction.

Lasting three and half hours with three intervals it was a long show. Granted Chekhov's masterpiece is in some ways a study of boredom so we perhaps shouldn't have been surprised but boy was it a slog at times.

Still, a bit of Chekhov is good for the soul. And it prepares Stuart perfectly for our three-Chekhov's-in-one-day marathon in July.

Charity Indie Disco and Guilty Pleasures.

Many congratulations to Dave for organising a brilliant Indie Disco and Guilty Pleasures in the upstairs function room at The Golden Lion in Romford last Saturday night. A sell-out night, great to see everyone and all in a good cause. Top man, top night.

David Sedaris...

Last night Stuart and I went to see David Sedaris at the Cadogan Hall in London's glitzy Sloane Square.

There was the usual mix of musings from the masterful man of letters followed by a Q&A.

Topics under discussion were weird Japanese clothing shops, familiar bonding, politics, litter collection, book-signings and gay marriage. We were also treated to readings from his diary and jokes. Lots of jokes.

Here are two of my favourites

A woman goes to see her gynaecologist.
Doctor: Madam, you have a large vagina. Madam, you have a large vagina.
Woman: OK, OK, no need to repeat yourself.
Doctor: I didn't.

Two women in a restaurant.
First woman: How's it going with your boyfriend?
Second woman: He's afraid of the C word.
First woman: Cunt?
(shocked pause)
Second woman: Commitment!

Carry on Screaming...

Last night Stuart and I went to see a screening of Carry on Screaming at the Arthouse in London's glitzy Crouch End.

It was a right old laugh and great fun to watch it with a live audience giggling along with you. "Frying tonight!"

Afterwards we were treated to a 45 minute Q&A with the marvellous, the lovely, the vivacious Fenella Fielding. Compere Mark Ravenhill asked questions about her work on the film we'd just seen, her career highlights and how she got on with her fellow actors. She also took questions from the audience.

She confirmed what we all knew that Kenneth Williams was a bit of a nightmare to work with and mean to anyone else who he thought might outshine him, Harry H Corbett played everything for laughs and so in many ways banjaxed his own straight acting career and Charles Hawtrey was a complete darling.

There aren't many 88 year old women who can hold an audience spellbound while discussing the art of subordinate clauses, purring about figure-hugging red velvet dresses and musing on why people just don't hold back the truth when they are tired.

A funny film, a great woman, a top night.

PS: I wanted to ask a particular question but didn't get the chance. The question I wanted to ask was apparently one she asked Kenneth Williams when they were filming Carry on Screaming and had to ride in a cramped horse-drawn buggy together; "Why is your bum so hard? Do you leave it out at night?" Next time maybe!

Arsenal FC 0 - 2 Barcelona FC...

Good game last night. We played well, missed a couple of good chances, got punished and had to play against 12 men - one with a whistle! And we had red bags!

Arsenal FC vs. Barcelona FC...

It is currently match day - Tuesday 23rd February 2016 - in London town and we are due to play Barcelona tonight. Let the court record show that as of this moment we are currently STILL on for the treble! ‪#‎optimism

Muswell Hill!...

Just completed a 10k run along Parkland Walk to Muswell Hill and now in church. OK, when I say 'run' I mean walk. And when I say 'church' I mean church-converted-into-a-pub. But we are in Muswell Hill!

Mrs Henderson Presents...

Last night Stuart and I went to see Mrs Henderson Presents at the Noel Coward Theatre in London's glitzy West End.

Based on the 2005 Judi Dench film, this new musical with lyrics by Don Black and tunes by George Fenton and Simon Chamberlain, stars the wonderful Emma Williams.

The story tells of Mrs Laura Henderson, the real life impresario and owner of the Windmill Theatre in Soho who, during the Blitz on World War II, hit upon a novel way of boosting morale and getting bums on seats.

Surprise, surprise it involved getting chorus girls to take their clothes off. And to get it past the censor she sidestepped the Lord Chamberlain's objections by making them pose as naked tableaux.

So is this a story of female entrepreneurship and women's empowerment? Of plucky Brits sticking it to Hitler by keeping the lights on as the bombs fell (there motto was "We Never Close")? Or a cynical case of sexist titillation perpetuated by first the fact, then the film and now this musical? And just as importantly, is it actually any good as a show?

Well, the critics have been rather divided. The Independent loved it. The Daily Mail loved it. The Standard hated it. The Times loved it. Attitude hated it. WhatsOnStage loved it. The Guardian loved it.

Me? Well, I loved it too. I thought it was funny, jaunty and frequently idiotically and endearingly patriotic. The songs were fun and at times poignant. Emma Williams as one of the stripping gals brings to life a song like "If Mountains Were Easy to Climb" and Ian Bartholomew as the show's Jewish manager has a call to arms in "Living in a Dream World" which is genuinely moving.

Was it sexist? Yes, a bit. Was it jingoistic? Yes a bit. But what it lacked in political correctness it more than made up for in darned right fun. Rather like The Lyric's Tipping the Velvet last year and the seminal Oh What A Lovely War! it used the theatrical device of a stage comedian between scenes to draw the audience in and examine our own views of what the theatre is for, our views on censorship, and what is done in the name of good old British pluck.

And any show what has mass tap-dancing, male nudity (yes, the boys get their kit off too) and a whole chorus line playing the spoons (no, really) - gets my vote.

Recommended. Especially after a sweet sherry ‘sharpener’.

Deadpool...

The End of Longing...

Last Friday night Stuart and I went to see The End of Longing at the Playhouse Theatre in London's glitzy West End.

Written by and starring your own, your very own Friends' star Matthew Perry the play told the story of an alcoholic, Jack, who meets up with and falls for a high-class prostitute, Stephanie. At the same time Jack's dumb best friend (called Joseph - see what he did there?) falls for Stephanie's needy best friend Stevie. Their two relationships have their ups and downs and the will-they won't-they end up together narrative frankly got a bit tedious after a while. Sure, there were some funny one-liners thrown in and the supporting cast made the best of what they had been given but Matthew Perry's central performance was simply piss-poor. It felt like he was reading his lines from a script. Now maybe this was the inevitable consequence of him also being the writer as well as the lead player but whatever the reason it was lamentable to watch. Even his heart-felt confessional speech for his AA Meeting at the end couldn't save it. Could it beeeee any worse, Chandler Bing?

Don't bother.

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom...

Last night Jane, Sara, Stuart and I went to see Ma Rainey's Black Bottom at the Lyttelton Theatre on London's glitzy South Bank.

Starring Sharon D Clarke as the real-life Blues legend Ma Rainey the story tells of a day a recording studio in Chicago, 1927. A power struggle is going on between Ma Rainey and her record producers for control of her music. Hardened by years of ill-treatment and bad deals, she's determined that "Black Bottom", the song that bears her name, is recorded her way. Sparks fly.

Down below in the claustrophobic band room four black musicians rehearse and tell stories of the terrible racism they have all experienced. Levee, that band's swaggering trumpet player, plans to catapult the band into the jazz age with his new arrangements but his ambitions put them all in danger.

The play is powerful, funny, musical and very moving. Maybe not as good as say The Amen Corner or The Colour Purple, both of which this play shares many themes, but still recommended.

Valentine's Day Jokes...

This morning Stuart asked me, "What would you like to do for Valentine's Day?"
My reply, "Blow Football. In that order"
I'm now wearing a freshly made cup of tea.

For the past forty years, I've received a Valentine's card from the same secret admirer. So, I was pretty upset when I didn't get one this year.
First my granny dies, now this?

I asked Stuart if he fancied going away for Valentines Day. He took it surprisingly well.

This Valentine's Day I somehow knew I'd be inundated. Sorry. In, undated

The Pass...

Oooh. The London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival BFI Flare's opening film is The Pass. Starring the lovely Russel Tovey. We saw him in the Royal Court play a couple of years ago and it was fab. You can read my review here...

Old Jokes Home...

An E-flat, a G-flat, and a B-flat walk into a bar. The bartender says "Sorry, we don't serve minors."

Q: Who lives at number 664? 
A: The neighbour of the beast.

Q: What's the difference between a Taliban outpost and a Pakistani elementary school?
A: No idea. I just fly the drone.

Q: What was Whitney Houston's favourite kind of co-ordination?
A: Haaaannnnd eeeyyyeeee...

I popped into Tesco today and nicked all the baguettes.
It was a French stick-up.

I feared my wife had Tourette's, so I took her to a psychiatrist.
The good news? She's not got it.
The bad news? I am a cunt and she does want me to fuck off.

I went out with a cardboard cut-out once. 
She dumped me though, because I stood her up.

Q: Why is Peter Pan always flying?
A: Because he neverlands.

f(x)=2x+1 walks into a bar. 
The barman says "I'm sorry, we don't cater for functions."

The Master Builder...

Last Friday night Stuart and I went to see Matthew Warchus's production of Henrik Ibsen's The Master Builder at the Old Vic Theatre in London's glitzy Waterloo.

Starring Ralph Fiennes in the titular role the play is a deeply peculiar, symbolism-saturated oddity. Largely autobiographical the story tells of a master builder who racked with guilt for past misdemeanours takes on an air of aggression aimed pretty much all around him. He doesn't build churches anymore - not since the tragedy of losing his son - something for which he blames his wife, played marvellously by Linda Emond. He is jealous of his up and coming architectural trainee - despite having crushed that guy's father's rival business - driving him to an early grave. His admin assistant is in love with him - a love he doesn't return but which he uses and manipulates to his own ends. Even the local doctor, played by James Dreyfus, gets it in the neck.

Yes, folks, it's an angst ridden show.

Then enter stage left a woman, played by Sarah Snook, from the master builder's past. Someone he made a promise to a long time ago. She says the unsayable, gets all Freudian about church spires and forces our anti-hero to confront his past - with tragic consequences.

Fiennes is excellent. The play however is rather hard work. And at nearly three hours is to be frank a bit of a chore.

Recommended - if you like Ralph. But then who doesn't?

Highbury Corner...

TfL and Islington Council are proposing to transform Highbury Corner by changing the one-way roundabout into a two-way traffic system.  The proposed closure of the western side of the roundabout together with a larger station square would create a new public space.

More details here - https://consultations.tfl.gov.uk/roads/highbury-corner-roundabout

Matilda...

 Last Saturday afternoon I treated Stu, my sister Jo and my niece Charlotte to a trip to the theatre and a slap up meal in London's glitzy West End. First we saw the wonderful Matilda at the Cambridge Theatre and then we had a booth at Balthazar.

The show was fab - just as good as we remembered it from our first time around - albeit with added kids in the audience. Any minor (sic) quibble we had wouldn't be so much with the kids themselves as with their parents and grand parents. They seemed to think that giving a running commentary of what was happening on stage was what their little brats needed. They didn't. And neither did we. 

Great songs though and the cast were excellent.


"When I grow up..."

Earth, Wind & Fire - September - Maurice White RIP

My favourite Earth, Wind and Fire song. I danced to this when I was 17 years old in a crumby discotheque in Stevenage new town centre, wearing a tight brown tank-top, large collared long sleeved shirt, impossibly tight cream trousers, sporting a centre parting, sipping half a pint of luke warm shandy and thinking it was IT!

Nil By Mouth...

My lunch today.

Gay Gooners...

Me, Adam and Pierre - just before a rather mediocre performance by Arsenal against Southampton at the Emirates Stadium last night.

Badly Packed Parachute...

What do a badly packed parachute and Madonna's face have in common?

They both look like a badly packed parachute.

Bloc Bar...

Last Saturday night Tim and Andy invited Richard, Andre, Stu and I round for dinner and then we went to the Bloc Bar in Camden. As you can see, we were rather in the pink (#nofilter)