:: Thespians? Need to watch out for them, you know... ::

Coming soon to a bar near you: Devukha and Hypatia braying theatrically into pints of G&T, while hapless Taxloss looks on in despair. Only joking - it will be great to catch up though, in the odd moment between luvvie activities...

Speaking of which, I spent my lunch hour learning Shakespeare's Sonnet No 129 for our Seven Deadly Sins charity show on 14th May. For those of you that can't remember the bard's sonnets by number, here it is:

Th'expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight:
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Bit of a corker isn't it? You can read the other 153 here.

As far as the weekend is concerned, I hope to be catching up with a load of long-lost chums. Although it clashes with Hyp's birthday, I hope to be able to gt along to at least some of the launch party for Corsair Records.

La Booth has proposed a going away picnic on Sunday afternoon, but I'm not too enthusiastic about the weather prospects after recent events. If it all goes pear-shaped, there's always a house party to go to afterwards...

On Monday I'm rehearsal-free, so I'm going on another picnic with the regulars at the pub where we performed Shakers Re-Stirred Revived and currently rehearse for Amadeus. If it's not a washout, the programme of activities promises to be fun. We've all been asked to bring "a piece of paper to fold into something", so I'm going to teach everyone how to make kusudama. These are astonishing ball-like origami constructions made from large numbers of modules and joined without the aid of scissors or glue. Instructions for folding the traditional sonobe are here for you perusal. However, the limits of origami engineering have really been tested by some dextrous paper-flexers:

  • An impression exhibition of origami invention - a 900-unit monster and 200-unit bucy ball, among others.
  • This model consisting of 5 intersecting tetrahedra must be one of the most awesome things you can make from sheets of paper.

Enough about my origami aspirations, and on with the News. Any insistence that our education standards are in decline should be met with derision following the appointment of Dundee University's new rector. Downing Street is set to make history... by getting Peter Andre and Slovenian Ambassador together in same room. And Rasputin's penis is set to go on display...

And on that less-than-savoury note, I'd better get the hell off this darn thing.

:: Love and a Bit With A Dog ::

So consumed was I yesterday to extol the virtues of meteorological and teutonic phenomena that I omitted to recount what I did on Saturday. After 7 days without a respite from rehearsals, I decided to go out with a few friends - to the theatre. Madness! you cry, but some people I know from the South London Theatre have set up a professional theatre company, Melmoth, and we were eager to attend their inaugural production at the Greenwich Playhouse (above a pub next to the station, in case you were wondering). Two Gentlemen Of Verona is a Shakepeare play I don't know at all, so I was looking forward to this, especially after seeing the flyer:

I should put my cards on the table at this point: I love Shakespeare, but am wary of anything being overly traditional (stockinged proclamation) or gratuitously innovative (bondage and body fluids). As the most celebrated author in English, I think Shakespeare deserves respect for his astonishing language, but the audience deserves a helping hand with the plot. So the best of all possible worlds for me is one in which the text is interpreted, evoked and presented largely intact, and the vagaries of the production (however "innovative") are integral to the action as it takes place. This allows scope for the severely traditional, the wildly offbeat and everything in between, but not productions where the text is compromised.

Enough ranting. This is a superb production, difficult to fault - from the dazzling costumes to the zippy delivery. Any reservations I'd had about the danger of moulding the play to a gay agenda were unfounded. Proteus and Valentine were indeed cast as a pair of male lovers, but this appeared to place no stress on Shakespeare's lines. I've rarely seen such an enjoyable, accomplished piece of theatre. It would be impossible to single out any individual performance in such a fine ensemble cast, but the gaggle of gay bandits make me rock with laughter. I can't imagine that many productions could have wrung so much from the line "We camp here almost every night."

There was just one problem. I thought the audience was disappointingly small - especially for a Saturday night. Therefore, dear reader, I implore you to go along and see it - you have until 16th May. It's a pleasure to be able to recommend a play which is still running by the time I come to review it. I'm planning to push aside some of my packed schedule to see it again, so I might even see you there. Go to the theatre website and book your tickets now!

:: Sturm & Drang ::

For those of you not acquainted with 18th Century German literary movements this is what Sturm und Drang means. The effect of this movement on literature in German-speaking countries was profound, but I know more about its influence on Mozart and his contemporaries. Fitting then, that this afternoon's incipient thunderstorms should coinicide with my attempts to draw up designs for a harpsichord/fortepiano that I'm helping to make for June's production of Amadeus. If you're desperate to extend your knowledge of Sturm und Drang, then look here for more links. For those of you who who couldn't give a monkey's, here's the rest of my post - and No More German...

The design for a fortepiano has turned out to be more complicated than I hoped. The process has partly been hampered by a need to scale down from the behemoth harpsichord I measured for the purpose (2.35m long). Another problem is that Fortepianos are less well documented on the web. The one depicted in that link, for example, is nearly 50 years later than the one we need. The elegant keyboard below is more similar (the date is perfect), although it's a harpsichord:

So, it's just me and a ruler and some flexible MDF.

Never mind the power tools, here's the bollox:

  • University authorities in the US have discovered a new way to cut down on students' living costs... I love the comment about it not being "unusual to see someone who's fallen asleep" - may be they're studying late 18th century German literature.
  • London's Art World has been rocked by a new installation at the National Portrait Gallery. This sleeping Becks proves that even the minted can fall asleep in the wrong place at the wrong time.
  • Demonstrating that his finger's never too far from the pulse (2 and a half years ain't too bad), David Bowie has endorsed bootleg versions of his songs. As if there haven't already been hundreds of takes on "Let's Dance" already...

And finally... watch out for boozed-up kids, coming soon to a street corner near you. Unless they're there already. Right... I'm off to dodge the thunderbolts.

:: Wounded In Action ::

Busy holidays for me. I didn't go away, but instead spent a couple of days at my Mum's clearing out the loft before she moves house in 2 weeks' time. My compensation for this was a couple of stonking roast dinners: Pheasant with root vegetables roasted in red wine on Easter Saturday and then traditional roast lamb on the Sunday. When I pitched up at my Dad's the following day I almost had to refuse the succulent beef on offer. The rest of the week was spent cleaning and preparing for a revival of The Way We Live. On Friday, my Dad and I pitched up chez Maman to pick up the numerous boxes of books I had accumulated over my College years. Now having brought them back to London, I have (almost) all my worldly goods in one place for the first time in 10 years...

The play went OK, but at the final performance, over-confidence proved to be my downfall. As I strutted off the stage, I clocked my shin on a wayward speaker and fell flat on my face. A plangent crimson graze now adorns my lower leg, like some cheeky UDI.

So, what has happened in my absence? Other than the anticipated shit/fan interface in the office when I arrived back yesterday, not much. The Paschal casualties include a childhood TV staple, and another, whose unpleasant jingoistic rants have long since garnered my disfavour.

Oh, and BBC2 celebrates its 40th birthday. Long live those ker-azy idents!

:: Hobby Jobby ::

Or... Buck up Kids! How To Occupy Oneself During The Easter Hols.

Wideboy, that notorious connoisseur of funky ephemera, has bemoaned a lack of decent hobbies in recent days. I aim to rid him of his listless blues and introduce a wide range of stimulating activities to while away his waking hours.

  • Following my recent walks on Primrose Hill with Jude, might I suggest a spot of kite making. The fact that this particular spot is London's Premier Kite Graveyard (I saw at least 6 caught in trees last weekend), that shouldn't be enough to put off the crafty types. Resources available on the web range from the rather lame and flimsy origami kite and pikey-tastic newspaper kite to the more technically involved aerodynamic splendour of the Flowform FF04A. Naturally at this time of year showers are never far away, so the first two options might be out of the question. Noneless less, people seem to have enjoyed braving the elements in this way for more than 2000 years. For those too lazy or busy to make their own can buy all they need at the online Kite Shop.

  • For people hemmed in at home by the vagaries of the British weather, a dose of tatting might be in order. Old-fashioned homecrafts have been increasing in popularity, as my recent exploits at the V&A have shown. You could even make you own SpongeBob Square Pants:

  • Those unwilling to pick up a needle and thread can still make an amateur career out of textiles. After his appreciation of my recently acquired Geoff McFetridge t=shirt, I wondered if Wideboy might like to print his own. Home fashion rocks!

  • Taking up urban speleology might be a good way of escaping from the house and avoiding the weather, but i'm not sure you'd be guaranteed to stay dry. For a slightly more sedate subterranean adventure, you could take on the All Stations Tube Challenge. 19 hours of fun-packed trundling, you might think, but you'd better kkep an eye on the Official Rules if you want to break the record.

  • Music might be the food of love, but have you ever tried playing the noseflute?
At least it beats blowing Shatner's Bassoon or a bout of tromboning

  • It may be a little late in the season, but parsnips are still readily available on our supermarket shelves. Why not try making some into parsnip wine rather than eating them? Or you could try this recipe instead. You may also be interested to know that the Russian word for parsnip is pasternak... which shares a name with the man who wrote Dr Zhivago.

  • Still on matters vegetal, you might like to take your knife into your own hands and produce some exquisite Thai fruit carving. This must be why the food sometimes takes ages to arrive in Thai restaurants. For an example of something to aspire to, see the carved pumpkin below:

Failing all else, try some of these quick tips: design some spoons that look better than these; Listen to the fab new album by Phoenix; have fun with dubbin; or attempt to build a sauna on a ship.

Failing all else you could hone your pop-up closing skills. Or you could get a pop-up blocker like any sensible person...

:: Bye Bye, Bev ::

I'm sure they'll have a field-day in the next edition of Private Eye over Beverley Hughes' resignation. It surprises me that she wasn't removed from Government sooner. Not over this issue, but in her previous post. As Home Office Minister, she was quick to condemn Chris Morris's timely Brass Eye special on paedophilia. Whilst much of the content teetered on the tightrope between satire and what many might consider unacceptable for public broadcast, the savage satire of the media frenzy over paedophilia was incisive, outrageous and hilarious. The fact that Hughes wholeheartedly condemned the broadcast when she hadn't even seen the programme should have been reason enough for her dismissal in 2001. It is not acceptable to have such arbiters of public taste when they are unable or unwilling to understand the reasoning behind a programme, let alone preach on the topic. The last thing we need from our political leaders is a raft of sanctimonious platitudes - uninformed, unquestioning and unthinking. Chris Morris's excesses are a marvellous conduit for rigourously attacking the absurd, the lazy and the wilfully ignorant elements of society which are nurtured by the mass media itself. Will Self writes far more eloquently than I ever could on Morris's oeuvre (In particular the infamous "cake" episode of Brass Eye). An avid consumer of all things Morrisian, I await his next project with glee.

Ananova is a source of quick relief when bored on a Friday afternoon. For some reason, many of the stories revolve around drunkenness or sex. The former has become a serious topic of debate in the UK as plans are afoot to relax pub licensing laws. Naturally, we still appreciate the stories which revolve around the drunken mishaps of our supposedly more enlightened continental friends. Exhibit A, for example: the Swedish girl who is sueing a bar for getting her drunk. And Exhibit B: the German who found out that barfing on cars corrodes the paintwork.

Other distractions today have been more engaging. I was emailed a Kids TV quiz and looked at a fantastic site documenting a lady bikers' travels through Chernobyl - some astonishing and moving images.

Something Awful, ever a paragon of taste and decency, got its readers to send in new items for sale in the latest SkyMall catalogue. Fancy one of these?

I was also diverted by Simon Hattenstone's foray into the murky criminal underworld of modern art: his part in the Case of the Kidnapped Imbiber.

Right. I'm off to make practise my naughty origami before attending the premiere of Foskett's latest. Happy Friday, everyone - your tarot reading for the day is...