Daily Archives: July 30, 2014

Wednesday July 30th

Now, primed on Lear,
Milton, Gibbon, Wordsworth, he’d set himself
to re-imagining an epic grandeur

Amy Clampitt

The morning sun streams golden in my head
‘An extra hour…‘ I whisper in my head
For after that there’ll rare a respite be
From parties, shows, reviews & poetry
An extra hour… & with my slumber done,
I set off with replenish’d energy
In search of everlasting fame & fun

They saw it from a distance, as a speck,
Now Arthur’s Seat towers oer mind & soul
With staff IDs enribbon’d round the neck
They step within the never ceasing squall
That drives this festival, a young lad lost
Asks for the Pleasanace, late for his first shift
I show him paths, then dreaming on I drift

I headed into heap’d up Bristo Square
A pretty frauline avalanching hair
Stands handing out free tickets for a show
Some play about the life & times & lies
Of Howard Zinn, of course I can but go
So let the Games begin, the Gilded Balloon
Gives birth to golden meanings in this mind


Los Angeles, far land of teeming dreams,
Where actors, singers, sportsmen, models, meet
With gangsters, dealers, gimpsters, pimps & molls
& from its ferment rises monstrous art
No quiet troupe of amateurs from Kent
But thought-provoking history of when
The Allies bomb’d wee Royanne, near Bordeaux

“Burning hospitals is a crime!” these times
See missiles stripping Gaza of its pride
As outside in the Square a protets blarees
“Killing children is genocide!” the cries,
Israeli-funded theatre the cause,
Which inbetween the louder narratives
Disturbs our auld Euripedean flow


The point of this smart play is how can man
Terror destroy by using terror too
Of how militaristic men surge on
When wars are won & foes are sick of war
As through this, from outside, “Free Palestine!”
Seeps onnto stage, til with a final bow
My muse, this globe & robed Apollo stand!

There is a swiftness to this happy vibe
A press launch at the Caves, a comic feast
of Vixens from the stars with disco lights,
Magicians pulling jokes out of the air
& Blackpool comedy from Mick Ferry
& fifteen other acts, upon the stage
For just three minutes of their hour-long shows


I meet a pal, Assembly’s garden grand
Four twenty-five a pint of Heineken
Or Fosters for three-eighty, three cute girls
Excited by the Mumble’s burgeoning
Give me their emails for reviews to come
Then tanked up on free booze downed at the Caves
I lurch towards my first official date!

So… Benny Boot, London comedian
Altho distinctly antipodean
Launches into his quirky diatribe
& smiling thro a slightly awkward vibe
Drags smiles out from a year of famine fun
With his slightly surreal observations
Delivered with a nervous afterthought

His best joke was a story on seagulls
Of how them stealing chips is ne’er rebuked
Those ballsy birds, amusing to a tee!
& as I scribbled down these antic lines
I senses he sensed I was reviewing him
& placed a pretend seashell to his ear
& called the sound crab-gossip, & I laughed!

An English lass trips off to Santander
She’s kinda cute, quite buxom, straw-blonde hair
& squeals, “The money’s different!” “It’s real!”
I quip, then trundle into George’s Square
Assembley One awaits me, & a show
Tis Vitamin, I only just oer there
Pick’d up the ticket yesterday, let’s go!

A comic clown arrives upon the stage
His brown eyes shine with continental smirk
That diamond sparkles us to warmly greet
This pleasant chap sweet Scotia has drawn here
Who bids a stranger perch upon his knee
& reads us all a story, as we hear
Into his fun-filled phantasies we delve

Expressive movements & accordians
This is an ancient craft, brindisi born,
Hypnotic stories spliced with hum’rous song
& iced with Catholic memories confess’d
He plays a worm, & with an, “It was me!”
Becomes a jogger cruising Normandy
Ah me! imagination needs fair foils!

Its time to drift down to the Three Sisters
& the Laughing Horse’s festival launch
The free fringe of the former fringe-like Fringe
The latter now a massive moneytrap
Far from the ethos of those fifties folk
Who ilked a good laugh, banter, & a smoke

Middle-fingering the Establishment
They found eight pubs round Reekie’s hamely streets
& forced their comic turns into the mix
With high-brows getting higher at the cheek
But roll on fifty years, these had become
Some chavvy lad from Leytonstone, who’d made
His name & fame & money thro his feet…

…when next to Balmoral this Beckingham
Palace of performance, rudely shuts
Its gates to those who shunn’d London agents
So Laughing Horse would find its own eight pubs
& said, ‘Pay what you like!” & so we did
& soon this new fringe on the old Fringe fringe
Goes swelling ever larger by the day!

I meet up with my old pal, Victor Pope,
Three years on from Infinite Delusions
He’s back to wow the world with his unique
Take on life embedded in his song
While on the stage his ain brother stands tall
Paul Vickers’ Mr Twonkey, what a laugh!
Their mum’s should burst with pride when she heads up!