Review – The History Boys, Sheffield Crucible, 8th June 2013

Posted on June 10, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

Here’s another play that most people know something about but which Mrs Chrisparkle and I had never seen; and the film passed us by as well. The National Theatre’s original production in 2004 had tremendous reviews and a rather brilliant cast, by the sound of it; but I’m delighted to say that the recent revival by Michael Longhurst at the Sheffield Crucible, the last night of which we saw on Saturday, also has a brilliant cast and was a very enjoyable, although not quite flawless, production.

A simple set greets you on entering the auditorium – the floor of a school gym, that slightly uncared for parquet flooring that I remember all too clearly, and with sketchy well-worn sports court tramlines painted on top. That gym floor has the power to bring back all one’s own school memories in an instant. Scary! The school staffroom, and the movable glass encased pod that becomes the Headmaster’s Office, get wheeled on and off the stage along with school desks and chairs in a sometimes frenzied manner by the boys en masse, acting as scene setters whilst apparently doing sports training or performing one of the musical numbers that the eccentric teacher Hector has taught them. These scene changes work incredibly well; they help the show proceed with great pace and it maintains the humour even whilst we are waiting for the next bit to continue.

Whilst it is all very inventive and clever though, the staging is a problem from time to time. Sometimes the shape of the Crucible stage can really work against the audience. Much as when we saw Macbeth last year, depending on where you sit, some important scenes can get masked, and important character reactions can become invisible. From my seat (B16), whoever was sitting opposite the headmaster in his office was completely obstructed by the glass edged corner frame. Admittedly, the door was left open, and the reflection of the person could be seen in the door, but I didn’t feel that made up for the poor sight. The setting of the classroom scenes were rotated so that everyone got a different view in each scene, which sounds fair; but whenever a teacher had their back to you, it was a) hard to hear what they said, and b) impossible to see or hear the actor who was facing the teacher. I heard other people grumbling about that on the way out of the auditorium. That always makes me very frustrated – when you’re centre of Row B, you really ought to have a great view!

Whilst I’m on the subject of frustration, I was also very disappointed to discover that they had run out of programmes for the final performance. To someone like me, who has kept all their programmes (and ticket stubs) going back to 1968, who likes to read the programme from cover to cover, including the bios of the cast and creative team, and who refers back to them on and off throughout the years to see the photos of the cast, and of the rehearsals (they’re often in programmes nowadays), I found the lack of a programme a slight mental barrier to bonding with the production. It also means I can’t illustrate this blog with photos from the programme – instead I have borrowed some photos from the Internet. I hope you don’t mind.

I was, however, very impressed with the play itself. Funny, sad, taking very believable characters and making them just slightly larger than life; dealing with big questions about the nature of education and trust, and that sometimes perilous interaction between virtually adult pupils and teachers. It’s full of accurate, instantly recognisable characterisation: everyone knows a teacher like Hector, who believes in education for life rather than exams; everyone knew a boy like Dakin, more sexually precocious than is good for him; everyone knows an administrator like Headmaster Felix, keener on statistics than real life and only happy when he can label and categorise people and events.

Matthew Kelly gives a very entertaining performance as Hector, profoundly useless at preparing the boys for Oxbridge but creating a bond with them in an appreciation of everything that nourishes the heart, mind and spirit. Hector and the boys are a team; he’s the leader but he also allows himself to be dominated by the team dynamic if he sees fit. Hector comes across as both the stereotypical “tweedy jacket with elbow patch” teacher, and the surprisingly leather clad rebel on his motor bike, looking for a likely lad pillion rider for thrills and a grope on the way home. It’s a fascinating character because he’s human, he’s far from being 100% good; and you ask yourself the question, how much bad behaviour are you prepared to tolerate from one person for the greater good? The play’s answer is, quite a lot. If you’re familiar with your 1970s British drama, I’d say Hector makes a very interesting comparison with David Mercer’s unorthodox and unpredictable vicar, Ossian Flint. Anyway, Matthew Kelly gives a great performance of schoolmasterly bluster, kindly counsellor, personal rage and emotional outpourings.

It’s an excellent contrast with the cool and reserved performance of Edwin Thomas as Irwin, the graduate new recruit brought in to sharpen the boys’ brains for the rigours of applying for Oxford and Cambridge. As Irwin attempts to break into the Hector/Boys club, it becomes a very interesting study of what happens when an outsider interrupts a cosy set up. Loyalties are tested, judgements called into question. The play’s two acts both begin at a later moment in time, when Irwin, now a presenter of History TV programmes, is filming an episode which will be interrupted by one of the boys. Irwin’s perhaps unsurprising bitterness is clearly revealed in a very effective use of dramatic irony, and I thought Mr Thomas’ performance here became disquietingly sinister. Brilliantly done.

I very much enjoyed Nicholas Day’s performance as the Headmaster, clearly intellectually outsmarted by his colleagues but secure in his power of status and seniority. Alan Bennett gives the character some of the best lines in the play and he makes the great use of them. Julia St John as Mrs Lintott, the third teacher, also gives an excellent performance, treading a sensible path between the extremes of the others and amusingly giving voice to Bennett’s subversion of the rules by virtually coming out of character to revel in the fact that she’s the only woman in the play. Great use of shock language! I was reminded of the character of Maria Feletti in “Accidental Death of an Anarchist” turning on the writer, Dario Fo, for his sexism in making her the only woman in his play. I also loved the scene where the three teachers coach each of the pupils on how to be interviewed for Oxbridge. It’s a hoot, and really heightens the differences between the characters.

There are superb individual performances too from the actors playing the boys. Both Mrs C and I agreed that Oliver Coopersmith as Posner was outstanding. In Posner’s own words, being small, Jewish, homosexual and from Sheffield notwithstanding, he gives a superbly subtle performance of being discriminated against and vulnerable but also incredibly defiant and unsentimental. His singing was immaculate, and his comic timing fantastic. I also really liked Tom Rhys Harries – who gave great support in the Menier’s Torch Song Trilogy last year – as Dakin, the good-looking popular boy on a mission to spread the boundaries of sex as much as he can dare; a really confident and insightful performance. Joshua Miles, brilliant in Bully Boy, here plays the outspoken Lockwood, again excellent, although I was a little disappointed that we didn’t see more of him as it isn’t really a major part. Will Featherstone’s Scripps was another no-nonsense portrayal of a character who knows he’s going to have to make lots of sacrifices in his life, a surprisingly moving and very believable performance. The rest of the cast give solid gold support and in particular the eight actors who play the boys put in an amazing overall ensemble performance – you can see that they’ve got a fantastic working relationship and it gives tremendous drive to the whole production. Thought provoking, funny, and very satisfying – this was an excellent revival and I’m glad we got the chance to see it.

India – Mumbai – City Tour

Posted on June 6, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

When you’re in a foreign country – and I mean exotically foreign, rather than Magaluf or Ayia Napa – even the most mundane aspects of travel can be fascinating. Our first stop on our daylong city tour was to get the car filled up with fuel. In the UK this is hardly an eventful experience. You get out, unscrew the cap, stick in the nozzle and pull the trigger. You might have the excitement of pay at pump, or you may choose the more traditional pay in kiosk. That’s about it.

In Mumbai, however, things are different. You all get out of the car. One man fills it with fuel, another cleans it, another ushers you into the kiosk to pay. When you come out, the car has been reparked by yet another, who will provide any other automobolistic services you require. They will check your tyre pressure, your screenwash, your oil – and it’s all free and done with a friendly, eager to please attitude. How very different from the UK Tesco experience. It seems like good value too – diesel was 53.69 rupees per litre – that’s about 64 pence. Of course, it’s relatively expensive in comparison to the average wage.

We were driving out of central Bombay towards the north. One of the first things you see is an extraordinarily shaped tower emerging out of nowhere. It looks like one half of a huge jigsaw puzzle that ought to slot into another jigsaw-tower to make one complete tower block. It’s 26 storeys, if I remember rightly, and it’s worth about $2 billion. Yes, billion. It belongs to the owner of the Reliance Company, and the most extraordinary thing is that only six people live there. So, no need to bump into each other if you don’t want to.

From perhaps Mumbai’s smartest location to one of its most hard-working. It’s a short distance to the Dhobi Ghat, which covers a vast area of the town, and from its best viewpoint you can actually only see a fraction of it. Rows and rows of gleaming washing extend almost to the horizon in this incredible laundry village. Colour-co-ordinated lines of clean clothes join corrugated iron shacks where a vast team of skilled laundrymen and women process tons and tons of washing. It comes from hotels, hospitals, private residences; and also from clothing companies as it gets washed here as part of the manufacturing process. People work hard here; but as a result they earn a good living, and to have your own laundry set-up in this complex is quite some achievement.

It’s an awe-inspiring sight. You could gaze at it for hours as there is always something new to see. Strong men beating wet fabric against the sides of stone walls to get the dirt out; whole families taking turns to wash themselves in large urns of soapy water; guys carrying large laundry bags up and down steps to and from the street as they deliver the goods through all stages of the process. And, amazingly, all those rows of washing lines, crammed full of clothes, and not one clothes peg in sight. The secret is they twist two ropes together to form one line so each item of clothing can be trapped in the grip of the ropes. So much industry and hard work going on all around you, it’s the most unlikely, but extremely popular, tourist sight in Mumbai. Completely mesmerising.

From gritty reality to a haven of peace. Our next stop was the Sir Pherozeshah Mehta Garden, better known as the Hanging Gardens, originally opened in 1881. Its welcome sign on the way in prohibits “Playing outdoor games like cricket, football, kite flying, strenuous exercises, running, etc; sleeping, drinking liquor, smoking, misbehaviour etc; feeding to animals and birds; bringing pets; plucking of flowers and trees; bringing and eating outside eatables; and littering”. Apart from that, you can have a good time. It’s positioned close to the Zoroastrian Towers of Silence, which as non-Parsees you’re not allowed to see – and that was fine by me. Instead you have such delights as landscaped lawns, a bandstand, exotic flowers and a Pillar of Friendship. It makes for a good place to rest for a bit after some heavy duty sightseeing. There are also fabulous views over the bay, which our guide, Amish, had tried to show us the previous evening. Just alongside the park is a children’s play area with a rather superb enormous Doc Marten, where the Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe lives. OK, you have to suspend a bit of belief there, she’s not actually real. The place was thronging with groups of schoolchildren, all very neatly dressed in their blue uniforms; most of whom behaved extremely demurely; just a few came out with the usual “Hello! How are you! What’s your name!” to which you reply “Hello! I’m fine thank you! My name’s Chris! What’s yours?” to which they simply giggle hysterically. Must Not Frighten Schoolchildren.

The next port of call on our day trip was the Gandhi House, or to give it its proper name Mani Bhavan. This was Gandhi’s headquarters from 1917 to 1934. It’s a very absorbing little museum, which includes his bedroom, dozens of display cabinets with models re-enacting significant moments of his life, and also a large library and study area containing thousands of documents pertaining to the great man. The terrace off his bedroom has a charming view over the street and is where he was arrested in 1932. It’s definitely worth half an hour or more of your time, and you do get a good sense of history and privilege to be in the place where he spent such a lot of time.

Then it was definitely time for a long leisurely lunch. Amish took us to the Samrat restaurant, which was a busy and delicious place that did a good range of vegetarian food (always the best bet in India). We sat upstairs and ordered a selection of goodies and did our best to eat them the Indian way, with consequently very messy hands, which in itself was good fun. An excellent choice for locals and tourists alike.

Not very far to retrace our steps from last night to visit the Gateway of India in the daylight. The square was still awash with people, and the Gateway itself looked very imposing and formal. We would return to the area the following day, as it’s the departure point for boats to Elephanta Island. It was nice just to wander around, and it’s a great place for people-watching.

Amish wanted to take us to a little stall where he said you get the best masala tea in town. There you will find the most skilful tea maker in the world, and the queue can be worryingly long, so in order to be able to serve all his customers he has to work really hard and really fast. Masala tea ought, by my taste buds, to be the most disgusting thing in the world. I like my tea with very little or no milk, clean, plain and simple. This masala tea is milky, spiced, complex, and completely delicious. No wonder he has such queues. As befits distinguished overseas guests we were served our tea in posh cups. All tea’d up, we returned to the hotel for a much needed afternoon nap.

What I didn’t tell you, gentle reader, was that it was Valentine’s Day. Traditionally Mrs C and I like to do something to mark the occasion – go to a restaurant, or maybe take a day trip somewhere exotic. Well, there we were in Mumbai, you can’t get much more exotic than that. I had asked the hotel in advance if they were having any particular Valentine’s Day events – and they weren’t. I don’t think it’s very big in India. Nevertheless, they suggested that we have a private dining experience by the pool. Sounded like a good idea to me. Thus it was that later on we turned up at the poolside, all scrubbed up and looking lovely, to enjoy our second vegetarian thali of the day. We had a special menu printed up in our name, and rounded off a superb meal with a fab bottle of Crozes Hermitage. That’s the kind of thing the Oberoi really excels at. It was great!

If you would like Amish to help you discover Mumbai visit mumbaimoments.com

India – Mumbai – Getting there and an evening tour

Posted on June 4, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

Back in 2006, Mrs Chrisparkle and I discovered India. Not in a “Dr Livingstone, I presume” sort of way, rather in our first visit we did a week’s trip visiting the Golden Triangle of Delhi, Agra and Jaipur and staying at the Oberoi hotel in each location. It was somewhere I had always wanted to visit, and despite some Delhi belly, I can’t tell you quite how much both of us loved the experience. The Red Fort, Chandni Chowk, the Taj Mahal, the Palace of the Winds, Fatehpur Sikri…we came home, delighted to have identified a new playground in the world, where we could return again and again and again, and always find new things to do and areas to visit.

But it took over six years for us to go back. There had been plans in the meantime for revisits, but they always came a cropper for one reason or another. But in February we finally got on board that BA plane bound for BOM. We got an excellent deal at the Oberoi by staying a full week, which included complimentary return airport transfers (and they were extremely complimentary), free wifi (which was as reliable as Cyprus voting for Greece at Eurovision), and a delicious, substantial breakfast. We chose to have a city view suite, which ended up being part city and part ocean, and it was absolutely terrific.

I cannot recommend the Oberoi too highly. As you may already know, gentle reader, Mrs C is a coeliac so we normally try and establish in advance the ease or otherwise of her getting something to eat. I had sent the Oberoi one of those “contact us” emails to explain the situation, and I received a really friendly and helpful reply from Mr Mayan Dhawan, Assistant Manager of Food and Beverage, who explained precisely what and where we could eat and how they would take great care of Mrs C’s requirements. Not only did they do that, but this kind gentleman met us on several occasions during our stay, personally attended to us in the restaurants and liaised directly with the chefs, whom he brought out to speak to us, so that we could all be certain that there were no dietary misunderstandings. Absolutely superb service.

But first let me take you back to Mumbai airport. When you emerge from Customs you suddenly enter a throng of people all waving their taxi credentials in your face and you desperately hope that your transfer reservation hasn’t got fed up waiting. Not a bit of it. Travelling Oberoi style means your driver is fairly obvious – he was the only one in a crisp white uniform with gold brocade. He guided us to our limousine. It really was a proper limousine. Not an Essex hen night stretch kind of thing, but a really classy spacious vehicle where you could stretch out, read the paper, drink ice cold water, and feel incredibly relaxed as the hustle and bustle of Mumbai carried on outside the comfort of your four tyres. It’s so luxurious that it’s almost – but not quite – embarrassing. Mrs C wanted to discourage our driver from putting on his crisp white peaked cap – but she didn’t, and he did. I know it was a privileged way to arrive at the hotel. And I loved it.

We checked in with good time to unpack, take a nap and then explore the hotel. We had already arranged in advance with a tour company plucked from the internet some excursions scattered throughout the week, and the first of those was to be “Mumbai by night”, from approximately 6.30 pm to 8.30 pm, that evening, then back in time for dinner at the hotel, as we didn’t quite feel bold enough to risk the local dining experiences yet. Our afternoon exploration culminated in that delightful experience, the Champagne Afternoon Tea. Champagne, followed by sandwiches and scones and cream and jam and then tea. We could have had more champagne, but, as I am sure you realise, “moderation” is our middle name. It was also impressive that they were able to provide gluten-free sandwiches, although alas not scones. So I had to scoff Mrs C’s. We were comfortably seated beside a picture window overlooking the bay by Nariman Point, a perfect setting for such a refined activity.

We thought we would have plenty of time for our afternoon tea before our guide arrived, but it was served in a rather leisurely manner, so we were more or less just wiping the last crumbs from our mouths when he appeared. Our guide was Amish, and little did we know that within a week of our being in Mumbai we would become firm friends. All we had to do was to get our stuff together and join him and our driver for an exploration of Mumbai at night.

First stop, and actually it’s within very easy walking distance, was the Gateway of India. This iconic monument, designed to be seen best from the sea as you approach the city, stands at the edge of a smallish square crammed with people. At night it’s the general meeting place for downtown Mumbai – or Bombay, as Amish pointed out was strictly more accurate – full of youngsters, families, traders, tourists; anyone and everyone is there. It’s atmospherically lit up and its orange glow looks as warm as the Mumbai sun.

After fifteen minutes or so drinking in the atmosphere, we got back in the car and drove up to the old Bombay University building. From the outside it looks like an Anglican cathedral, and the Rajabai clock tower to the side looks like it should contain church bells. It’s lit beautifully at night, with constantly changing colours that make it stand out like a beacon, and the gargoyles clinging to the side of the building are very reminiscent of Oxford.

Another short drive took us to the night-time glories of the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. No one in Bombay knows what that is, but if you say Victoria Terminus, they all go “ahh!” and nod with understanding. This magnificent railway station was completed in 1888 and two million people use it every day. Over the course of the week we would go back to revisit these places by day, but at night they have a special magic. It was enough at that point just to appreciate its grandeur from the outside.

We dropped down to Chowpatty Beach to get some delicious malai and kesar pista kulfi from a food outlet actually on the sand. It’s an area where loads of locals gather for some informal evening eating, and it was really lively and fun. The kulfi was to die for; even Mrs C partook of some.

Then we drove up to catch the view over Marine Drive and the bay – the Queen’s Necklace – from the Sir Pherozeshah Mehta Garden, but unfortunately it had closed early; we would see the daytime view the next day. But Amish was keen for us to get a good view of the bay by night so we found the bridge that crossed the main road to get to Charni Road Station, and halfway across looked out to get an amazing view of the lights sweeping round the bay.

We then followed the bridge into the station and just carried on walking until you could go no further – unless you were to descend on to the platform. On the other side of the road is the overwhelming sight of the façade of the Saifee Hospital. By day it’s an attractive but not outstanding building; by night it takes on massive proportions and actually left me speechless when I opened my eyes to look at it.

We made our way back to the Oberoi along Marine Drive, but took time to park up to check out a couple of the extraordinary temporary structures along the way, built to house wedding receptions. Indian weddings are humungous affairs, and these edifices range from the grandiose to the ultra-plush. Vivid colours, brash decorations, and full of bridal parties and wedding guests having a good time. Some are in use; some are under construction; whatever, drive past a couple of days later, and they’ve all been replaced by different ones.

We returned to the Oberoi and decided to have a simple meal at their Fenix restaurant. I had a pizza – very tasty indeed. We then decided to have a nightcap in the Eau Bar. This is a delightful place to which we would become comfortably accustomed. A jolly trio bash out some standard hits whilst extremely friendly yet courteous waiters offer you excellent wines at remarkably reasonable prices. Just writing about it now makes me want to go back!

But we couldn’t stay up long. It had been a very – very – long day; and the next day we would be meeting Amish again for a daytime tour of the sights of the city – the Dhobi Ghat, Pherozeshah Mehta Garden, Gandhi House, and the Gateway of India, all rounded off with the best Masala tea you could imagine. Tell you about it soon!

If you would like Amish to help you discover Mumbai visit mumbaimoments.com

Review – A Chorus Line – revisited – London Palladium, 2nd June 2013

Posted on June 3, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

A few months ago – on 23rd February to be precise – Mrs Chrisparkle and I went to see A Chorus Line at the Palladium. It was the first non-preview Saturday night. I loved it, as I knew I would, having loved it ever since as a slightly insecure 16 year old I sat, by myself, in Row C of the stalls at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane and became instantly captivated by this life-enhancing show that taught me so much about, well, everything really. £5.50 that ticket cost me; I must have saved up for weeks. One of the best investments I ever made.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I’ve kept the faith with this show basically all my life, seeing it not only in London, but also in Oxford, Sheffield and on Broadway. February’s trip was my 12th time of seeing it – and Mrs C’s 4th, bless her. She loves the show too – maybe not quite as fanatically as me. I guess we all have our own definition of “what I did for love”. Thanks to the kindness of a Third Party whom I shall not name – but if you’re reading this, thanks so much! – on Saturday we returned to see it again.

I’ve always been a “front stalls” man; that’s my default setting. But for this 13th viewing of A Chorus Line, we sat in the dress circle, and I’ve never seen the show from this angle before. It’s very impressive! It goes without saying that from the dress circle (Row B) you get a fantastic view of the entire stage. Even though you’re further back and you can’t see the sweat and the spit, there are other aspects of onstage activity that become more apparent. Specific elements of the dance; for example, Diana’s thumping tap moves, in an attempt to make some kind of noise with her sneakers, came across as really funny; and you could see that the accidental twist that results in an injury to one of the dancers was executed absolutely perfectly. The view also brought out the anxiety and buzz of the dancers mingling stage right, whilst they’re waiting for Larry to call them on to dance, or for Zach to choose them for his final seventeen. Absolute big up at this point to Georgie Ashford for a fabulous performance as Trisha during that first number. The resigned crestfallen looks from the dancers not chosen, somehow clearer from above, was something I had never really appreciated before.

If anything, the show is even better than three months ago. Everything flows so naturally and seamlessly. The voices are perfect, the dance moves stupendous. I’ve always loved Michael Bennett’s original choreography, it’s so eloquent yet subtle in comparison with Bob Fosse’s brash showmanship that most other people seemed to prefer at the time. Despite the fact that, as Cassie says, “they’re all special”, some roles are still seen as “starrier” than others and they’re all still sublimely performed. Victoria Hamilton-Barritt especially now really excels herself as Diana. She has taken the song “Nothing” and totally made it her own. With some quirky vocal expression and changes of pace she tells the story of that stupid course and the dreadful Mr Karp with such passion that we can see how that experience has strengthened Diana and shaped the way she copes with life’s problems today. Her “What I Did For Love” still hits home with its plaintive honesty and the whole cast’s backing singing is just superb – major goosebump time.

John Partridge continues to invest Zach with a humanity I’ve not seen in previous actors’ interpretations. His questioning technique of the dancers is rarely straightforward – at times he’s sly, provocative, humorous, compassionate, irate; and his questions in turn seem to elicit a more emotional response from the auditionee. His stage presence is just astounding, and he’s still loving that big number at the end. When Larry asks Sheila for her “I love to dance smile”, it’s Mr Partridge to whom they should look for inspiration.

As Cassie, I loved Scarlett Strallen’s heightened emotions when she and Zach are raking over the old coals of their former relationship; I’ve never heard a Cassie quite so outraged by Zach’s pig-headed selfishness. She’s got to keep on the right side of him because she wants the job, but there are some things she’s just not going to let him get away with! The two actors work together incredibly well in those scenes. And Leigh Zimmermann’s Sheila is still a brilliant portrayal of the slightly temperamental, definitely cynical, at heart vulnerable, brassy lady who knows there aren’t many years left that she can continue to be a chorus cutie. Her last look to Zach still speaks volumes.

The whole cast are superb, but I wanted to mention a few others that I didn’t talk about last time. There’s a terrifically solid and honest performance by Gary Watson as Don, who really brings his experience with Lola Latores and her twin forty-fours to life; it’s fun to imagine the two of them zooming off into the sunset in her pink Cadillac. I also loved the way he reacted to the final casting decision – absolutely right for that character. Ed Currie seems to have now really got to the heart of Bobby, “real weird” in that nerdy jumper, outrageously sending up the wackier aspects of his character but in an absolutely credible way. Frances Dee is a wonderfully out of tune Kristine, no pantomime character this but a real person who genuinely gets uptight through nerves; and Alastair Postlethwaite, who we thought would be destined for great things after seeing him in So You Think You Can Dance, is giving Larry a real character dimension; not just the assistant but someone who has to have a proper working relationship with Zach and with whom you sense he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye. Andy Rees is still a hugely entertaining Greg, and Harry Francis’ Mark – the character I always identified with when I was young – is a brilliant combination of youthful exuberance and awkward embarrassment. His dance skill is astonishing; you sense he could dance rings round the others given half a chance.

In the performance we saw, the role of Paul, in many ways the most sympathetic and moving role in the show, was played by Michael Steedon. Paul has a stunningly written monologue to perform, and every Paul plays it slightly differently, obviously drawing on the actor’s own insights and experience. Mr Steedon is absolutely one of the best. Beautifully paced, sincere; I know that speech like the back of my hand and still it brought tears to my eyes.

A funny thing happened halfway through the show – everything stopped! Judy had just confessed to kissing other girls as a rehearsal for when she wanted to start kissing guys when all the lights went out. Everything went silent; a little torch appeared at the sides of the stage and you heard the shuffle off of retreating dancers. Then, in a tone of immaculate calm, a disembodied voice announced that due to a technical issue they’d had to suspend the show and would get it going again as soon as possible. Well it’s not often that a number literally stops the show! I felt the lighting had gone awry in the “Mother” sequence beforehand; I don’t know if that was the cause. Anyway, for the first time, A Chorus Line actually had an interval! It was about ten minutes before they resumed the show, picking up precisely from where they had left off; and huge admiration to Andy Rees for getting straight back in with Greg’s “Hard” routine without a flicker of anything being wrong. That must have been quite nerve-racking.

One other observation about this production of A Chorus Line is that I really like the fact that we now get an additional curtain call at the end. It was always a source of frustration to the teenage me that the last we saw of the performers was when the lights faded on the high kicks at the end of “One” – you never really felt you were given the opportunity fully to express your appreciation. Apart from the very last night in 1979, that is, when the lights went back up at the end of the show to reveal a stage and auditorium full of weeping cast and aficionados. Now, once the lights have faded, the dancers remain on stage one more time for a proper curtain call. Result: satisfaction all round.

Going back to see it again has satisfied me that the cast are still looking after the show wonderfully well – it’s all in very safe hands. Trouble is, now I’m going to have to go yet again. I knew I’d have to!

Review – Dancing at Lughnasa, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 29th May 2013

Posted on May 30, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

In the early 1990s Mrs Chrisparkle and I found ourselves up to our eyeballs in matters too dull to repeat here but which meant that we spent about four years without going to the theatre. At all. Unimaginable! As a result of that fallow period, we never saw Dancing at Lughnasa first time round; or indeed, any Brian Friel play. So it was a good opportunity to put that right with the choice of this Olivier and Tony award winning play as part of this year’s Made In Northampton season.

I was expecting something gentle, lyrical, reflective and Irish. Well two out of four isn’t bad. I wouldn’t call it a gentle play by any means – its depiction of poverty, dementia and unfulfilled lives is hard hitting, albeit punched with a soft glove. Neither would I think of it as lyrical – the language of the Mundy sisters is more attuned to the mundanity of getting batteries for the radio, the drudgery of work and maintaining the household than any pretence to a romantic notion of the simple “good old days”. Reflective, however, it certainly is. The whole structure of the play is that Michael, the grown-up son of Christina, looks back on his childhood and the characters who inhabited it, to tell to a present-day audience the story of the sisters. Because he tells us how the story ends, this gives rise to a considerable sense of dramatic irony, especially in the second act. And finally, Irish; it goes without saying really, and indeed many of the accents I heard around the theatre and bar during the interval were from the Emerald Isle.

Contrasting and interspersed with the drudgery and general tedium of remote village life with no money, comes the concept of dancing, a simple form of self-expression, which the sisters turn to in order to bring some light into their lives. It may be the childish dancing of Rose, the razzmatazz dancing of Maggie, or The Full Riverdance that the sisters do as a group when the infectious joy of the music from the wireless is too much to ignore. Dancing is associated with negative aspects too – Gerry, the waster boyfriend of Christina, and father of Michael, loves to dance, and not to do much else; and the ritualised dancing of the Ugandan tribe where Father Jack had gone as a missionary in part caused his downfall.

Technically, as seems always to be the case with these Made in Northampton shows, it’s a wonderful production. Naomi Dawson’s fantastic set, which gives a huge impression of depth – Row A has been removed from the stalls for this production – has skeleton roofing, tired furniture, a black horizon and real grass. Jon Nicholls’ ethereally eerie background music gets interrupted with a jolt by the harsh sound effects of real life. Lee Curran’s lighting subtly draws your attention to the important scenes and contrasts the sunlight of the garden with the dinginess of the house. It’s all masterminded by the director Richard Beecham who has created a terrific ensemble spirit within the cast and allowed Brian Friel’s text to do the talking in a sensitive, gimmick-free staging.

If I have a criticism of the play, it would be that – basically – not a lot happens. And some of what does happen, you don’t actually see or experience, you just get told about it. But your attention is always held, and the lack of action certainly doesn’t lead to boredom. It makes you think hard about the wider relationships of the characters, for example, what happened to them in the future, and what was the Priestleyesque “dangerous corner” when something went wrong; Mrs C and I spent the rest of the evening trying to piece in the gaps of the play for ourselves – which is always a satisfying process.

There are some terrific performances. Kate, the schoolmistress head of the household, is played with great understanding and insight by Michele Moran. Kate is the authoritarian, the breadwinner, and frequently the bully; at other times she can lose her inhibitions just as much as her less responsible sisters. Michele Moran absolutely gets that mixture of kindness and harshness, and it’s a superb performance. She completely reminded me of my old headmistress. I shuddered at the thought.

Zoe Rainey is splendid as Christina, downtrodden when part of the sisterly group, but blossoming when alone, beguiled by Gerry, even though she knows he’s only spinning his stories. Her gradual descent from placid to jealous is beautifully realised when she observes Gerry interacting with the other sisters, particularly the well meaning Agnes, another super performance by Grainne Keenan; there’s obviously some history there between the characters, but you have to piece it together yourself.

We both really enjoyed the performance of Caroline Lennon as Maggie, warm-hearted, cheeky, flawed, and always doing her best for the group as a whole. Her facial expressions at others’ conversations and references give you gradual clues to gather together and fill in the gaps about Maggie’s past; a subtle and beautiful performance. I also thought Colm Gormley, as the narrator Michael, did a great job of bringing us into his confidence, reminiscing about the past with warmth but not sentiment, vocally interacting with his aunts as they were playing with him, and coming to terms with aspects of his own life as a result of reliving these memories.

Sarah Corbett expressed Rose’s simple nature with a wide-eyed wonderment and an innocently child-like voice to boot; Christopher Saul’s Jack was a superb study of someone in the first stages of dementia, still largely able to survive independently but who needs someone else to join the dots for them, and Milo Twomey made a roguish Gerry, all charm and empty promises, although we did think that his Welsh accent occasionally went a bit Home Counties.

But it’s a very engrossing and thought-provoking play, given a loving treatment by the cast and production team. Definitely recommended.

Review – Peter and Alice, Noel Coward Theatre, 25th May 2013

Posted on May 28, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

A bit late in the day to get round to seeing the second in the Michael Grandage season at the Noel Coward (I’m still calling it the Albery) Theatre, but travel, Eurovision and other commitments prevented our earlier attendance. Starring Dame Judi Dench and Ben Whishaw, both of whom were in Skyfall, and written by John Logan, who wrote the aforementioned film and is apparently writing the next two James Bond screenplays, one might expect an evening of espionage and gadgetry, femmes fatales and martinis. No. This is a very thoughtful and imaginative exploration of what it must be like to be the real person on whom a celebrated fictitious person is based.

Dame Judi plays Alice Liddell Hargreaves, the 80 year old Alice of Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland, as she meets Ben Whishaw’s 35 year old Peter Llewelyn Davies, the inspiration for J M Barrie’s Peter Pan, at a Lewis Carroll exhibition in 1932. This apparently really happened. Whilst both have had their fair share of hardships and bereavements, Alice is a relatively stable character who knows that the fictitious Alice has actually been quite useful in her life; whereas Peter is tormented by his alter ego’s continual childhood happiness against the backdrop of him and his brothers being handed over by his dying father to “Uncle Jim” and his rather unorthodox guardianship. Not so much in loco parentis, more in loco mentis tortoris.

Peter and Alice meet in a wholly unglamorous functional backroom at the exhibition. But once they start challenging each other on their relationships with their famous writers, the backroom is replaced with colourful abstract scenery reflecting the (allegedly) carefree days of childhood. The kindly or otherwise figures of Lewis Carroll and J M Barrie emerge in the memories of the two main characters and we see them interact and watch how the writers play very formative influences in their childhoods. Once they have come to life, they are followed by the fictitious Alice and Peter Pan who also comment on the relationships, and make a stark contrast with their older real life versions.

What works so well is the development from the play being about Mr Davies and Mrs Hargreaves, and their reflections on the writers and characters, to the emergence of Peter Pan and Alice, taking over the stage, criticising their real life counterparts, revealing the sad and bad aspects of their personalities – and finally having the last words on their subjects. The real people live and die; the literary creations endure forever. The play has some interesting observations about the nature of reality and fiction, family relationships, mental stability and the fine line between care and abuse by an older friend or relative. And it’s all really beautifully written.

There is a distinctly sinister undertone throughout the play regarding the attentions of the Rev Dodgson and Uncle Jim towards their younger charges; whilst nothing is ever overtly stated or portrayed, you sense at any time something dreadful might happen to the youngsters that would merit the accusation of paedophilia. Nothing does; but it hangs in the air like a veritable sword of Damocles.

Regular readers might know that I’m not a fan of the “play without an interval”; unless it is combined with another one-act play, either side of an interval. However, this is one of the cases where I can see precisely why an interval would be undesirable; there’s no obvious cliff-hanger moment halfway through that would come at an appropriate time, and the gently unsettling atmosphere that gets built up during the course of the play could get lost. At about 85 minutes it’s not so long that you desperately need the loo before it’s finished; but I do always get concerned at the revenue loss sustained by the theatre when they don’t sell drinks and ice-cream during the interval. I know, that’s not really for me to worry about.

It’s an eloquently written play and is performed with all the skill and honesty that you would expect. I reckon 85% of the full house were there just to see Dame Judi – judging by the speed and fervour of the standing ovation when she came on for her second curtain call. They won’t have been disappointed. From the moment she appears on stage, her attention to detail, her technical ability, and her complete immersion in the character are all immaculate and astounding. When she is reunited with the Rev Dodgson (a thoroughly believable, slightly Gladstonian Nicholas Farrell), she changes instantly from old woman to little girl, and it’s a delight. She was also excellent coping with her shame when fictitious Alice, a suitably attitudinal Ruby Bentall, starts delivering a few home truths.

Ben Whishaw was also compelling as the anguished Peter, with nervous mannerisms and a kicked puppy look when manipulated and subjugated by the odiously pleasant J M Barrie, played with quiet ruthlessness by Derek Riddell. It was a really thoughtful and moving performance. Also excellent was Olly Alexander as Peter Pan, encompassing all the childhood heroism of his character, expressing great excitement in contemplating his adventures, but not holding back from turning on his real life counterpart when his defences are down. The final member of the cast is Stefano Braschi who brings Peter’s tragic brother Michael to life and also does a wickedly funny silly-arse routine as Alice’s suitor Reggie. It’s a splendid production, very moving, beautifully put together and superbly well acted. You do come away from it feeling rather sad; well, we did. If it wasn’t about to close in a few days time, I’d say you should book now!

Grumpy audience update: a while ago I remarked on how often members of the audience grump at you if you need to squeeze past them to get to your seat. There was a splendid example of this at the Saturday matinee we attended. There were a few people we had to inconvenience in order to find our seats but I really didn’t appreciate it when I got told to my face “NOT AGAIN!!” by a grumpy old woman. “Can you get past if I do that”, she moaned, repositioning her leg a tiny distance from where she had previously stretched it out. “I’ll try,” I responded, a little sourly, and then made as much effort to linger and balance precariously over her lap in the process. Some people! Honestly!

Review – Micky Flanagan, The Back in the Game Tour, Derngate, Northampton, 23rd May 2013

Posted on May 24, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

This was one of those shows you had to book months in advance to secure your ticket. Micky Flanagan is a big name off the telly, but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that. But as you might know, gentle reader, Mrs Chrisparkle and I don’t tend to watch the box much and I don’t think we’ve ever really seen Mr Flanagan before. Well, it’s definitely our loss, as he’s completely brilliant on stage.

He is so natural; this does not feel like an act, just like a guy you would meet down the pub telling you about his life, his wife, his family, his job; there’s nothing remotely pretentious or surreal, all his stories are situations with which everyone can identify. And his material is absolutely first rate. Mrs C thought he was possibly the most consistently funny stand-up throughout the whole routine that she’s ever seen. For me I think only Jason Byrne gives him a run for his money.

There’s no supporting act – just two and a bit hours of Mr Flanagan walking back and forward across the stage, tugging occasionally uncomfortably at the microphone lead to give him a clear path, a bit like a caged lion in the zoo, but with no sense of the stress that the caged lion might feel. He’s immensely relaxed, which puts the audience at ease too, and you never get that edgy feel – you don’t need it – that he might suddenly pick on someone. He’s much too kind for that. His routine is clearly 100% scripted; when people arrive late and leave to go to the loo he just carries on. His material follows on so naturally that reacting to the audience would only interrupt the flow. Normally I like it when a comic breaks off to talk to the audience, but in his case, he knows precisely how best to deliver his act, at his own pace.

During the course of the evening we learned the differences between a girls’ night in and a boys’ night out, the addictiveness of speaking African, and the irrepressible joy of stealing sandwiches. He explored these topics in an incredibly funny and inventive way. There’s a wonderful sequence about weddings that takes you from receiving the invitation in the post to a really embarrassing conversation with the vicar after the service. There’s a brilliant routine about having your prostate tickled – by the doctor, I should add – and some wonderful stuff about – and there’s no polite way of putting this – wondering who might or might not be up for wanking you off, and the subsequent benefits of that same kind gesture.

It’s all done with a superb lightness of touch, and whilst there’s a lot of adult material there, it never comes across as offensive, only extremely funny. He sold out last time he was here, he sold out this time. He has a few more dates in London next week then he’s back on the road in September. Absolutely not to be missed!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 17th May 2013

Posted on May 20, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

All good things come to an end, and last Friday’s Screaming Blue Murder was the last of this season. It’s been a fantastic series of comedy nights, with I would guess record attendances and a really good range of comics taking to the stage. Our compere was Dan Evans, as usual, ever genial apart from when he puts the boot in to deserving front row spectators. Thanks Dan for coming up with some new material and also for knowing when the old stuff is what they really want!

As has been the pattern recently, of the three comics, one was new to us and two we had seen before. Our newby this week was Joe Rowntree, an affable chap who looks like the kind you could share a happy pint with. He has a relatively quiet style which means his wicked punchline moments have a good shock value. We enjoyed his exploration of the nastier side of his wife, and the tricks she plays on him when he’s not expecting it, and I really loved his routine about Prince William wanking; yes, honestly. Excellent stuff.

Second up was Jen Brister, who we enjoyed seeing here a couple of years ago. Some of her material was the same as last time – including the brilliant coming out as lesbian to her Spanish catholic mother, but there was also some new stuff about visiting friends with new babies and her interactions with men, and she also maintained an excellent rapport with the audience. Extremely funny and she got a great reception.

Final act was Josh Howie, who we saw nearly two years ago and who we didn’t like at all that evening. This time round was a fascinating experience. He started off by talking to the front row which sparked off about twenty minutes of really hilarious observational comedy, about a disastrous visit to the hospital with his wife which centred on his need to be proved right and to get his own back. It absolutely tapped in to one of the least honourable aspects of most relationships and it was spot on. A vast improvement on last time! Then he realised he still had about ten minutes left to do, which he introduced by saying “and I haven’t even talked about blacks and Muslims yet”. I sighed inwardly as he reverted to the type of jokes I despised last time. He wasn’t perhaps quite so offensive this time round, but it’s such a shame that he can’t get past this really rather unpleasant material.

Nevertheless a great night. No doubt the season will start again in the autumn. I will be first in the queue!

Eurovision Semi Final Two 2013 – The Morning After

Posted on May 17, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

So last night we decamped to Duncansby Manor for the traditional showing of the Second Semi Final with the usual wide range of alcohol and nibblies. As on Tuesday our arduous task was to identify the ten songs that we would jointly and severally put forward to Saturday night’s final.

Latvia – Had an instant appeal to Lady Duncansby and Mrs Chrisparkle, but then again they hadn’t had the “benefit” of hearing it all the way through before. Two bouncy chaps in glittery suits certainly seemed to enjoy themselves and it’s a happy sound; but the truth is that there isn’t much of a song in there. I briefly considered having my haircut like a shark’s fin too. Mrs C and Lady D were swayed to vote for them – not me.

San Marino – Lady D said it instantly reminded her of Apricot Stone, and how much she hates that song. I wondered why Valentina wasn’t draped in her sheet, and was also very concerned about that bit of hair that kept getting in her mouth. It’s a song of two halves, but the ladies had got too bored with it before the upbeat final fifty seconds. Only I voted for it.

FYR Macedonia – Verging on the camptastic, but rubbish at the same time. Lozano was fine, but Esma was just awful to my ears. She provoked a lot of mirth on the sofa though. At Esma’s second chorus Mrs C cried “oh no, she’s off again!” Scott Mills’ description of her as a tomato on castors was about right. No takers.

Azerbaijan – Lady D looked at Farid; then she looked at the boy in the box; then back at Farid; then sighed “decisions, decisions…” It’s a very strong song, and Farid sang it really well. The boy in the box gimmick was effective when they were absolutely in time – the couple of occasions they weren’t, it jarred. When they were back to back they looked like a pair of bookends. All three of us voted it in without hesitation.

Finland – A pre-show favourite of mine, I thought it lacked just a tiny bit of oomph in that performance. Still it’s a massively fun number with a quirky routine and a naughty ending. We all liked it, but it didn’t spark discussion. But we’re all members of Team Ding Dong, so we all put it through.

Malta – It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone look as though they were genuinely enjoying their performance as much as Dr. Gianluca. Its light, story-telling style had a big impact, and although it’s a gentle song, it went down really well with us. A very appealing performance, and best use of stage apron so far. Three yes’s.

Bulgaria – It took the dreadful performance of Macedonia to make me realise this song isn’t quite as bad as I first thought. Still, that’s not saying much. The bagpiper looked like he was strangling a pig. Mrs C would look very nice in Elitsa’s jacket. Still sounds like the record is warped. Three no’s.

Iceland – Lady D was rather taken by Eythor’s looks, whereas I knew he would not be Mrs C’s cuppa tea. Personally I thought he looked a little like a hamster in a wig. It’s a simple, pleasant, dare I say it slightly plodding song that doesn’t offend in any way. Not quite strong enough for me to send through but the ladies did.

Greece – I don’t care if this is a searing indictment of the Greek economy, the chorus is just the title being repeated ten times and it’s really rather tedious. The guys looked quite smart in their Moss Bros kilts but Agathonas looked very uncomfortable. After three minutes of it, Alcohol Is Necessary. Only Mrs C put it through.

Israel – Whilst Moran’s face says “sexy secretary” to me, her body says “bit of a bruiser” to Mrs C. It’s a strong song and she sang it well, but the three of us couldn’t stop looking at her dress. The ladies thought if she got through to Saturday’s show that perhaps they could find her something more “forgiving”. Repecharge material, and only I gave it its Saturday night slot.

Armenia – Although this is a bit of a dull song, it was very different from everything that had gone before, and its style had a good appeal at that point of the evening. Mrs C admired its variety; Lady D liked the way Gor wore his scarf. I wasn’t sure of his tremolos. Nevertheless it came across quite well, and we all voted for it.

Hungary – A sweet song, not entirely well sung, but with a certain Magyar charm. Lady D was not only attracted to the guitarist, but she also thought ByeAlex would be the kind of guy you could talk to after sex. She must have been on the oysters. This song does successfully what Lithuania’s doesn’t (IMHO). 100% from us.

Norway – That Verfremdungseffekt of a technothrob introduction either appeals or it puts you off. Both Mrs C and Lady D were turned right off at the beginning, and Lady D stayed switched off to the end. I’ve always liked the song, but it did lose something in that live performance. Mrs C and I gave it the benefit of the doubt, but there was quite a lot of doubt.

Albania – When the introduction started up, Lady D said “I’ve heard this before, I like it”; and then as soon as Bledar started singing she said “oh no I don’t”. Very firmly. I quite appreciate this song’s anthemic quality – I tend to like that sort of thing at euroviszh. I prefer it to the Armenian entry anyway. Again Lady D was the only nay-sayer.

Georgia – Starts promisingly, then becomes a dull dirge. I felt sorry for the eurofans who must have been gagging on that dry ice. We watched in silence until the hilarious choreographic moment when the two of them walked towards each other – plod, plod, plod, stop. Terribly stagy. Mrs C described it as “overblown woodchip”. No score.

Switzerland – This has long been my favourite song of this year’s contest, and Lady D’s too. Sadly on the stage it looked and sounded a bit ragged, and 95 year old Emil – to whom all kudos be given – did look as though he couldn’t really keep up. Out of fondness for the recording, we all put it through.

Romania – This has long been my least favourite song of this year’s contest. It’s still awful, and the faux-naked dancers just looked ridiculous, although not as bad as Cezar dressed as Abanazar from Aladdin – the stuff of nightmares. Mrs C and Lady D stunned into speechlessness. Thumbs down from everyone.

So Lady D and I both got six right and Mrs C got seven, so she was the overall winner of the two heats. For that, her prize is to spend Saturday afternoon bedecking a bar in Birmingham with balloons and flags in preparation for our Eurovision party.

Best lines of the night – Ana Matronic on Petra Mede’s dress: suitable for “my big fat gypsy funeral” was the killer.

Have fun everyone on Eurovision night!

Eurovision Semi Final One 2013 – The Morning After

Posted on May 15, 2013 by therealchrisparkle

So we all met up to celebrate the annual festivity that is the first semi-final. Crisps and nuts were consumed, wines were free flowing; and we each took our responsibilities seriously as we weighed and judged each act as to its merits for being considered for promotion to the premiership of Saturday night. Don’t forget you can click on the pictures to bring them up to full screen loveliness.

Austria – The song was ok, and Mrs Chrisparkle and Lady Duncansby were both envious of Natalia’s jeans. Bit slow to start, but she warmed up a bit later on. But none of us was that impressed. No one put her through to the final.

Estonia – A confident performance, but I’ve always thought the song was dull, and see no reason to change my mind. Lady D wants to know where Birgit gets her eye-shadow. Mrs C gave her the benefit of the doubt and put her through.

Slovenia – The instant upbeat sound caught all our attentions. A lively song, and Hannah shows remarkable proficiency in walking in those boots. Her outfit reminded me of Sage the owl from the Herbs having been spray-painted in graphite; and her dancers’ helmets had to be seen to be believed. We all liked it and all sent her through to Saturday.

Croatia – Mrs C hated this on CD but quite liked it on stage. It’s a very nice song and the guys sang it really well. I could quite fancy one of those sub-Napoleonic uniforms. Do they do them in H&M? Lady D doesn’t really do mizerja, so not that impressed. Two out of three.

Denmark – I enjoyed seeing the otherwise po-faced whistle player stifle a smirk at the huge round of applause at the beginning of this performance. The song sounded as good as ever, and Mrs C appreciated the military drumming. Nice golden shower too. We all gave it the thumbs-up.

Russia – I think this was the first time I’d really enjoyed hearing this song. I was impressed by its anthemic qualities that I hadn’t noticed before. Also she had a nicely swathed pink cleavage. Deadly in the criticism department as ever, Mrs C and Lady D both remarked on her “roll of fat”. Girls can be cruel. Still, we all put it through.

Ukraine – I’ve always liked this song but I’m really not sure about the jolly green giant. Zlata is my favourite honey of this season, and she didn’t disappoint, but I felt the song started to ebb away a bit towards the end. You can see that she’s feeling it in the photo. More harsh words from the ladies – “look at the creases in that ill-fitting dress”. Everyone’s a critic. We all liked it though.

Netherlands – This is a song you either get, or you don’t. I never really have got it, and Mrs C and Lady D were bored to tears with it. When Anouk started yet another chorus, Mrs C was heard to exclaim “Jesus Christ Almighty”. Whilst the voters that mattered heard Anouk’s prayer, none of us did. No takers.

Montenegro – Only at Eurovision. Its silliness coupled with its energy won us over, and Nina gave a belter of a performance. Lady D said “respect” and “check it” a couple of times. I’m not sure those spacesuits would be totally safe at -150°C. We all voted for it though.

Lithuania – Andrius, the man with the manic eyebrows. “Look at the size of his hands” said Lady D, which I was sure was some coded message. Such an understated performance yet it has a certain something. I’m sure he sang “because of my shoes I’m wearing today, one is called love, the other is suede”. Lady D is having legal documentation drawn up so that she can adopt him. Mrs C and I weren’t so keen.

Belarus – A generally camptastic experience. The song came over as lively and we all tried to sing along with it. Alyona was looking stunning, and her dancers were looking like they were enjoying themselves. Oooh get you, Belarussian boy on the left of the picture. We all put it through to the final.

Moldova – I’ve always liked this song but now I’m beginning to go off it a little, and last night’s performance didn’t really help. Whilst Lady D thought the extraordinary expanding dress was indeed a work of art, Mrs C wasn’t so keen on Aliona’s heavy breathing and the fact that they threw everything at it. Sometimes less is more. None of us had it in our top ten.

Ireland – Surprise of the night. It’s a good song, but Ryan absolutely nailed the performance and made it into a great song. Do you think they had to scour the continent to find two drummer/dancers with complementary tattoos, or was someone busy out back just beforehand with a stencil and a spray can? Pretty damn faultless, and my top score of the night. Nice earrings, Ryan. We all sent it sailing through.

Cyprus – Despina’s a big star back home and she gave a great performance of this dull song. She looked stunning in the dress but Mrs C pointed out how out of kilter her eyebrows were – and once we’d all seen that, you couldn’t take your eyes off them. Generally ok, nothing more. Mrs C thought she would go through in the repecharge – and she did.

Belgium – Roberto still looks a bit scared on stage, but wouldn’t you be with those fierce girls there with you? Look at that photo – she’ll have that jacket off in no time. It’s a great classic pop song, that I feared wouldn’t make it to the final, but I’m really pleased it did. Lady D drawing up another set of legal documents to adopt him – he’ll have to share the spare bedroom with Andrius. We all voted him through.

Serbia – Nothing can beat Ana Matronic’s comment that they look like Destiny’s Child as dressed by Hello Kitty. Totally weird presentation – don’t know if it was meant to be sexy but it certainly didn’t work for me. The song was as tedious as ever, and none of us voted for it. Looking at that picture, do you think the girls will come to regret this in later life?

So that means that I (the Eurovision fan) got six of the ten right and the ladies (Eurovision hangers-on) got seven. There’s no justice. Back for another post-mortem on Friday.