Saturday 2nd August & Sunday 3rd August

Shows – 7
Hangovers – 1

We will either find a way or make one

Hannibal

A muggy, grey day & the air is cool
Two joggers do dressage thro Pilrig Park
Out of a bed & breakfast three old dears
Drag purple flight bags to the taxi home
For tho exists three weeks of art employ’d
Some touch this festive world for bare one day
But better to have lived & loved, they say

Full thirty years of the Pleasance, today’s
Press launch begins with coffee & cookies
Then taking seats to puppet dinosaurs
Myself & Sarah Lewis, Mumbling new,
View Olympic accapellans, wild song
From Voca People, clad in eerie white
Boom-booming human beatboxers unbound!

John Hastings takes the stage, twelve jagerbombs
Still keeping him alert, as with tourettes
A lass called Jess shouts out, “BISCUITS,” betwyx
The punch-lines of comics like Angie Barnes,
The high octane theatre of ‘He had
Hairy Hands,’ the surreal, sublime stagecraft
Of Eglantine Whitechapel spectral world

After the surprise cake & the speeches
To celebrate the Pleasance love of art
Four men of a certain age take teh stage
Speaking, ‘Forgotten Voices fronm the past
The words of long-lost Tommies, as they read
The woman with Tourettes, every ten secs
Says ‘Cats’ or ‘Biscuits’ doing my head in

Then the finale, on Jess Myers’ stage
This is Brasil, rivers & rain forests
Roll across our soul, as onto the stage
What lithe, young smiling dancers shimmy down
With long, dark hair all waving to the groove
Of such a funky band of bass, guitars,
& drummers energizing in our minds

IMG_20140802_122403

Walking home, the end of Princes Street
Stern-faced women clad in sombre black,
Protesting at the death of young children
I share my theory Israel’s skirmishes
Are contrivedto use up stockplied missiles
& gain a chilling response, ‘these missiles
Are advertised ‘Field-Tested’ by Israel

I pass the day relaxing at my flat
Ready to rave away into the night
With a lovely lass called Lydia, we met
In the street outside the Laughing Horse launch
& now were sitting in the BBC
Tent, watching cabaret for half-an-hour
Then left early to watch some comedy

We found it in a church where Amused Moose
Gave us their laugh-off, hilarious mix
Comics from all quarters of the globe
Gave us the better samples of their shows
Where half-way thro, I passed Lydia
A little pill, & when the curtains dropped
We headed into night as high as stars

From there the weekend blended into one
Gin & wine & cider downed aplenty
“From now, the Mumble doesn’t do Sundays!”
I quipped, when playing pool way-down Leith Walk
& said it once again down Newhaven
When ‘Last orders’ rang round the Old Chain Pier
Not long before I passed out at a pals

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