SPOT THE DIFFERENCE
There comes a point every single fringe where I get a big spot on my nose. Its as regular as every other element of the fringe and appears that my personal stress likes to manifest itself in a way that makes me look like Rudolph the Red Nose Human Dude. This year, it arrived two days ago and was fairly unnoticeable. Then yesterday I got bored and took it down, whilst resisting to shout ‘expelliarmus’ and eventually leaving my nasal region looking slightly like it had been personally attacked by three bees with reason for revenge. Paul Byrne was trying to sell me the need for concealer as a performer yesterday, but I refuse to bow down to the ways of the ladies and choose instead to wear my nose scar with pride. Its my festival battle wound in a way. People will stop and point and call me a ‘survivor’ and things like that, knowing that I’ve got two weeks through the fringe and all I’ve endured is a bright red nose, which several people in Edinburgh have already purely through boozing. Either that or they’ll point and laugh at my spot nose which is what Carl did all night last night. I’m still not going to buy lady make up though. FACT.
Other bits of me are slowly falling apart too. A late night race, initiated by the sort of delirium that 5.30am brings to the table, has left me knowing that I definitely damaged my right thigh last week as I’m now hobbling around like a particularly pathetic pirate. A spotty pathetic pirate. Sigh. And I’ve somehow agreed to run round Arthur’s Seat with Lizzie – one of the excellent and most street team – which I’m going to hugely regret. Stupid 5.30am and its stupid ideas. Someone needs to put warnings out for that time in the morning saying things like ‘don’t agree to anything’ in big red triangles all along my journey home. This would probably hamper many peoples romantic interludes, but frankly, if it saves me running around a big fuck off hill then I couldn’t care less. TRIPLE FACT.
GINGERS AND BLACK
I saw Ginger and Black’s show yesterday and it was hella awesome. An awful lot of moments that genuinely had me, still not feeling my greatest at the time, actually howling with laughter. Its properly sick, twisted and severely odd but much much fun. I won’t tell this to Danny though, as I live with him and don’t want him thinking he’s all good and that, so I’ve carefully written a one star review that I’ll leave on his bed later as a treat to destroy his festival like a proper friend.
5.30am bad decision number 3 – a ginger haired girl called Abby decided to add herself to the Ginger and Black team without asking to create Gingers and Black. Danny nodded until the realisation of how bad this would be dawned on him. Go away 5.30am. Bad bad time.
POLITE HECKLE
Halfway through my show last night, a man at the very back row stood up and put his hand up. I stopped and enquired what the matter was and his response was this:
‘I’m really enjoying the show, but its very hot in here and I’m going to Silent Disco and want to smell fragrant for the ladies. Do you have a facebook fan page as I do think you’re awesome.’
Best. Heckle. Ever.
TWO CONVERSATIONS I DIDN’T WANT TO HAVE YESTERDAY
1) About octopuses being painted on people’s walls
2) About 1960’s wood panelling.
Two more days to go and then we hit the final week……..
