Blog 5
Well I am going to be a slacker and launch this onto the net pre proof read. Just be nice to get something up there. Will have my proof reader tear me apart later in the week.
Its been a long time my friend ! shit I am communicating to my blog like its a living entity. Their are big times of change right now, Rico Mortis (my comedy sidekick) real name Rick Wood writers name Eric Mahogeneigh has fallen in love and gone to East Anglia. I am at a loose end with the whole Radio West Pier project. I have not really written about Rick yet he's something of an eccentric that has many hidden depths. He is the only person I have ever come across that can get three seven letter words in one game of scrabble and forget where he has put his lighter in a nano second. Its been far too long to not write about Rico or Rico or Eric.
The cocktail of a genius hippy with enough get up and go to knock a cuppa together and myself a world record holder on a push scooter is the making of a paradoxical comedy show but is without question 1% persistence 99% perspiration and 100%frustration.
You can see Rick or Eric or Rico on episode one of Radio West Pier ... well not entirely true he is wearing a bell suit helmet , you can see him in episode two being a dogs body of a media runner in his yellow fisherman's oil skin. A great friend an amazing mind a complete pain in the arse, well not all the time, Rick thinks I am a control freak, so what do I know. We first met when I was seeking out digs at a Housing co-op called Two Piers which is a rich stew of socialism and bureaucracy and consequently well worthy of a TV docu soap, Rick spotted me at the other side of a crowded room at a Two Piers meeting in a small gazebo and it was mackerel at first sight and since then I have always looked back.
A message to Rick :
Dear Rick when you spell check this blog please don't write raving reviews about yourself, I appreciate that is a sneaky trick that I am more lightly to do, but my paranoia leads me to being over cautious. Also could you get back to these guys and tell them we don't have a pot to piss in until the sponsorship arrives.
Hi
I was referred to reach out to your firm about worldwide housing for your productions like we just did for MTV in Miami last week - they leased 20 apartments for a few days to 45 days..
You would save thousands of dollars in Hotel costs by providing luxury, furnished apartments for your Cast and Crew needs worldwide in all major metropolitan cities and nationwide in the US.
www.DrakeCorporateHousing.com
We also have a 4000 sq ft. luxury Loft (7 bedrooms and 4 bathrooms with
maid) in Soho, New York which has been used in many film and television shoots around the world - such as Red Bull, Holland..'s Next Super Model.
www.TheSohoLoft.com
The Soho Loft and it..'s architecture was written up in the NY Times Dec 2006.
Please forward this to your office and please email me by replying to this email when you receive this. You can reach me directly at 212.924.9694
Thank you
Ken Hunt
Drake Corporate Housing - production housing solutions and The Soho Loft
85 Fifth Avenue, 7th floor
NY, NY 10003
Tel: 212.924.9694
SWINGING ANOTHER TANGENT
I have moved in the direction of short clips on you tube now, to see if I can be a significant blip in amongst millions of other blips. Yes a bit sad I know, we all want our ten minutes of fame.... for me personally I love a challenge and to get some kind of ranking on you tube and effectively build the myspace site via links and tags appeal to my train-spotter side. Ok time to digress to more meat on the what have you been doing all summer bones. But before I do that, this late entry is owing to the fact that I have been completely focused on getting episode three out onto the myspace site. This was a huge anti -climax, as to date I have had only one spontaneous premier in the living room with my mother and brother travelling down from Lancashire to Hove and in-between my baby son crying, episode three of RWP was viewed by my family. As I hit the play button on my laptop resting on the arm of the settee I quickly ran over to the curtains as it was getting dark and pulled them together very slowly to give the effect of a grand opening (even though I was closing them) This was my grand premier, three people and a bottle of wine between us. Their was me! on episode three, doing a naked handstand and my mother watching and probably thinking where does he get his influences from. My brother concluded in a nice straight to the point Northern manner "you have obviously put allot of hard work into that and my mother with equal support " its certainly different". This was good enough for me it wont push the rating through the roof but what the hell you have to start somewhere.
Ok TC the summer what's the coo Mr McGoo ?
Between the last blog and this one so many rich snippets
of time have held my hand and taken me through pastures supreme. I don't know where to start so I suppose the best thing to do is waffle even more in some form of chronological order .That presents a problem in itself as I now need to enter the depths of my mind and dissect the filing system called memory.
I want to share some of the experiences of the last three weeks with you, for I have
been going mad performing the Utensils kid's shows at the following locations :
Shambala
This is a low key environmentally friendly and family orientated festival held in Northamptonshire Shambala is just the right size to guarantee a toilet that will not induce post loo stress disorder and a pristine showers that have you singing tip toe through the Tulips whilst scrubbing your grubby bits. The facilities are not and do not become too primitive. The nub of this festival biscuit is that you genuinley feel relaxed and its hard not to give or return a smile to random passers by.
The festival began in 1999, with 150 people in a field with a farmers trailer for a stage and a porter loo. Having hijacked a sound system from a students union, the organisers revelled for a weekend with good music, cream teees and general silliness. Such a good time was had that the next year a few more folk came, and each year since people have got involved or wanted to come!
G and I celebrated our arrival by stacking up all the contents from the car: the set for our show ,blankets, cushions, cooker, water butt, wallpaper paste table, Buddha, random stuff I didn't even know was in the car in the first place and tonnes of even more shit into an art instillation kind of way and proceeded to dive over the bits and bobs mound before erecting the tent, their might be a world record in their somewhere but unfortunately there is no evidence due to this being a nigh time ceremony.
The following day G was off catching up with mates from bygone fezis whilst I was hanging out at the Medieval Village, which basically comprised of three hatched buildings and bails of hay for a seating area.. Me old mucker Tyrone was running the kitchen at the Village. He is a fire horse. The Horse is the standard for grace, strength, rhythm and nobility. They have an amazing capacity for hard work. Often quite ostentatious, they enjoy being with large crowds and always seek out the grand and magnificent. They need people and have a weakness for those of the opposite sex. You can often find Horses at concerts, music festivals. Through all the moons of many a year, the Fire Horse is a dynamic creature, with a vigour that promises youth and freshness until the very end of life. Nelson Mandela and Neil Armstrong are firehorses.
Suffice to say Tyrone is a wild vampire like entertainer /performer and promoter or a Universal soldier as he likes to describe himself. We have performed in plays at various theatre venues around Brighton. Tyrone sometimes reminds me of the crazed boxing promoter Don King he has the same type of controlled insanity. On top of this knowing Tyrone meant I was always fed for brekki and well looked after Tyes a good egg and cooks a top one too !So a weekend of Tyrone and medieval frivolity, its full steam ahead and hold onto your hats for Rumble in the Shambala, I suddenly feel like my style of writing has gone really bland and I am writing scripts for wish you were here . Maybe if I throw a swear word in that will stop the diary feel. So yeah I was fucking around by that I mean trolloping around the Medieval hut looking for oldie whirly branches to balance on one finger. I have a weird ability to balance huge telegraph pole like sticks upright on one finger. Its a weird kind of connectedness that when mastered brings you into oneness and when the stick stops balanced on my finger and sways from left to right only in millimetres the feeling is very meditative. Its when the stick falls off your finger and spikes a sun bather that's when you know its time to run like the clappers.
There was only one drink on sale at the Medieval village and this was enough to set me up for the rest of the year. Many a Mead passed my lips over a two day period at Shambala, its a fermented alcoholic beverage made of honey, water, and yeast and is also colloquially known as "honey wine". Its a cheeky number, cheeky in the sense that its subtle undertones don't give you enough warning that you could be well on your way to going whoooop whooop shelom shelang whhhhoooosie dooozie whaaaapti dooooopti napti nopti. In plain English this means rat arsed. One night after listening to a spokesman for medieval life and how this was in many ways better than modern day society I wanted to pause a question to him and it took me half an hour to write it down I was just about to present it to him and he slipped away into the darkness like a ship in the night.
The question was something like
If modern day society, technological advances and industrialisation generate edge and edge produces creativity which may or may not seep and be accepted into the mainstream then is it unfair to make healthy comparisons between medieval life and the world as we know it today. Should we not be focusing on how to tweek or radically change what is? Rather than suggesting the medieval age should live on and was somehow better than present day.
I wasn't being real when I wrote the question, I was just trying to see how far it is humanly possibly to stretch the mind after a few cups of mead. I often conduct mind experiments on myself, on a physical level I like to see how long I can do a handstand for after a few snifters. Maybe that's why I don't ever get paralytic because I am always thinking about my own thought patterns. I don't want to give off the impression I am a big drinker by the way I have always aspired to a puritanical lifestyle
but just never quite got their. Had I of got an answer I wouldn't have taken any of it in. Sometimes I embrace the opportunity to be a bit of a smart arse this is one of my silly short comings, probably inherited from my Dad who sometimes has a bad habit of going into salesman mode and selling his philosophy with riddles and metaphors. My dad is a one off he always has a joke and a funny angle on life.
Back to Shambala. At the end of it all I got a good taste of all the usual festival skills/crafts, independent film, music with a mission, workshops, talks and debates, comedy, craft and the fresh organic market, fair trade coffee stalls, practical demonstrations, 'speakers corner' and a sauna. The sauna was a funny one, I sat their for ten minutes in the knack chatting to festival newcomers clothed in the sauna, then went for a shower. Two girls stepped away from the showers in hysterics because they were undergoing a first time naked experience that resulted in uncontrollable laughter and the presence of a man contributed to the laughter. I wanted to slip past them unnoticed because laughing from the opposite sex, nudity and a cold shrivelled up Percy don't make a very good social cocktail. Because I didn't have my specks on I couldn't see the hit button to kick-start the shower so I was in the strange situation where the two girls didn't want me to look at them because they were quickly experiencing a new nude situation and I didn't want them to zone in on me due to my cold shrivelling Percy and their inability to stop laughing. In the end they verbally directed me to the hit button and quickly scarpered and I was standing their objectively amused by the quick exchange of clashing energies.
For me, the two highlights at Shambala were the
Saturday night dress up in costume extravaganza, for which I donned a Caftan and silly red beret with a tomato like stalk sticking out of it. The Caftans durability was put to the test whilst I was roller skating in one of the large tents. And on Sunday night their was a huge hay fight outside the medieval village after a hurdy gurdy, bladder pipe and crum horn musical experience.
Although I did loose my specs in the hay after being hit on the back of the head with a full bail. And I needed to drive to Ireland the following day. It took 20 people to trawl through the hay on the ground to find my specs. Shambala would not have been the same had Tyrone not have been their.
There is of course our Utensils show and each show we do has its own highlights and pockets of magic. The Sunday afternoon performance was probably the one that stood out for me.
Geatanwas advancing to our audience with Bert the wicked whisk and I was running from side to side scared of his presence. I turned round and their was a kid using our set with a giant puppet monkey and conducting his own show. During this show half the set fell apart due to the Misuse of Gaffer Tape Act 2007 and we had our first adult heckler.
The older audience participants were raucous and a tad inebriated. At the end of the show one guy staggered up to G and said "you guys were hilarious I needed something to keep me awake ... brilliant absolutely brilliant" Usually its the kids with compliments but its nice we can trip the adults out as well.
In comparison to other festivals from the Utensils circuit Shambala had a strong feeling of their being a social conscious. It was nice to waltz around a festival completely independent from advertising and sponsorship! Shambala has grown entirely through word of mouth and new developments include a medieval sports day, a field of hot-tubs and an amazing new audio visual woodland space.
On way to Electric Picnic
The journey from Shambala to the Electric is something of a fatigued haze. Three days of Shambala little sleep and performing gives you little head space for driving. The logistics of the journey should have been better thought out but that's life. A ferry journey from Hollyhead to Dublin was awaiting and we had to board by 2 a.m. The initial exit from the Electric Picnic turned out to be a nightmare as we had a flat on the Volvo and didn't have the necessary jack and turning jobbie (Ive forgotton the name of the tool that takes the bolts off the wheel) the funny thing was Geatan would head out for a tool, a jack or scafolding to sort the job and by the time he got back I had already borrowed the same thing. It cant be a bad thing doubling up as we had to use both jacks in the end in a complicated operation to dig a hole in the ground to fit one of the jacks and line it up with the car. After three attempts to line the car up with the hole in the ground the tone of the conversation became heated and eventually after a peaceful reflection the problem was resolved. There is a part of me that likes these situations as it tests how well I can deal with set backs and delays, after all you cant have an adventure without struggle. On arrival to Holly head tiredness was really set in. With one hour to go before boarding the Ferry G and I fell asleep in the front of the car. An almighty bang on top of the car came from a guy waking all the drivers prior to boarding the car onto the Ferry. What a job !! how would you put that one in your job description.
1990 - 2007 A vehicle thudder to awaken zombied passengers prior to boarding Ferry
Reason for leaving : Cruelty to the dream world.
As the bow doors opened this was definatly not a convoy of men, equipment and supplies ready to roll on and roll off to invade the beaches it was more like Zombies 3 each driver had more baggage under their eyes than in the boot of their car. I slept through the whole ferry journey and can only remember coming into Ireland but before exiting the Ferry terminal I wound down my car window and was asked in a deep Southern Irish accent "do you have any dairy produce with you" I was half asleep and replied sorry no we have already had our breakfast. He was actually warning us about the foot and mouth and before I could say "shit im getting sprinkled" my car was slowly moving over a gigantic disinfecting spray machine whilst the window was still wound down. Getting out of Dublin to head for Stradbelly was easy we just made most of it up as there were barely any signposts. This added not detracted from the experience. Well twud be grand to elaborate on the rich history of Dublin but there so much of it. So all I can say in this blog is Ill have a pint of the black stuff please and slauncher.
Coming out of Dublin we stopped off to replenish in a small town somewhere in the back and beyond. We bumped into two guys who had been taking the same journey from Shambala and had boarded the same ferry with pretty much the same facial expressions of complete witheringawayness. The town was a funny little place anyone we asked for directions was East European and the local restaurant had two mannequins on display upstairs, the plastic couple were staring at each other with glazed eyes and the male mannequin to the left was holding a cigar. My thoughts turned to the person positioning and delivering the mannequin in the first place ... if it was me personally I would be keeled over laughing. I suppose advertising and marketing techniques in Ireland could be a step back from what you might see else where. Mind you though a friend did tell me that she once saw a baby coffin in the window of a funeral directors in Ireland. Maybe I am just picking out weirdness because I am in a different country I have seen plenty of weird advertising in Britain and funny spelling mistakes also. Before setting off to Shambala the Argus, a local Brighton newspaper, said: little picker finds £2000 in park (obviously the little should have read litter. This could be a point worth bringing up that travelling elsewhere adds to your perception of weirdness. Any situation is stored away in your memory and stands out as being more weird and memorable than when you were back at home... for worn in travellers this might not be the case. The bottom line is I thrive on anything off the wall and two mannequins dining out in a restaurant hits the spot for me. Whilst driving to the Electric Picnic my mind began to wander and think about the previous two occasions in which I had been in Ireland. The first was in 1995 when during an academic period of a three year mickey mouse degree called BA Consumer studies which would have me debating the powers of marketing one day and cooking burnt scones the next. Elaine Poulson Box my marketing lecturer received an application from me to do my three week employment placement in Ireland near Belfast.
This was on the grounds that I could drive. Unbeknown to Elaine ...yes I had past my test, no I could not drive with any degree of competence what so ever. After arriving at the warehouse north of Belfast I jumped in the food wholesalers company car and crashed into the barrier. From day one I was assigned to jump in the 18wheelers with the truckers and was taken around Northern Ireland to various supermarkets to analyse shelf behaviour with Fast Moving Consumer Goods and Slow Moving Consumer Goods. Conversations ranged from "you see that hotel over their, the Europa, its the most bombed hotel in Europe" (a tourist attraction ! how bizarre) to "you see that hospital over their it has the highest concentration of prosethetics and false knee caps in the world" to "lets go to Shanklin Road and Falls Road". This was all innocent banter and I was given a top welcome in Northern Ireland. And I don't want to create the wrong impression it wasn't all doom and gloom for the tourist boom I did pay a trip to Carrickfergus castle and Giants Causeway, the scenery was faaantastic!
The second visit to Ireland was in 1998,
I decided to travel from Dublin to Cork on my self- propelled push scooter and follow the first leg of the Tour De France. The 1998 Tour de France, also dubbed the Tour de Dopage (Tour of Doping), was marred by doping scandals throughout, starting with the arrest of Willy Voet, a soigneur in the French Festina team. 189 riders – 21 teams of nine cyclists each, an entourage of 5,000 people, 3,000 vehicles, three helicopters multiple TV crews and one solitary weary traveller on a self propelled push scooter. Before day two of my final ascent up the Wicklow mountains on the push scooter I got my head down in a bed and breakfast. The B and B was on route to Wicklow and the owner was a farmer. When he saw my push scooter set up with all my various back packs badly strung together on the front of the scooter he grabbed the scooter in his muddy wellies shouted in astonishment "be Jesus its a poor man's bike" and then proceeded to scoot around the grounds of the farm much to the delight of his admiring family. The push scoot up the Wicklow mountains would have been a struggle if it wasn't for the onlookers scattered to each side of me. Hundreds of Tour De France spectators cheering me on a making strange yodelling noises. When I finally reached the peak I turned round and was being approached by vehicles with 20 baguettes on top and massive Seiko watches. The question ran through my mind did the spectators think I was leading the sponsorship procession. And then like a flash of colours in a Konica advert the cyclists whizzed past. I hung around for a while and loads of people came up to me to discuss the push scooter and my motives for such an endeavour. In amongst all the chaos there were one or two cyclists/spectators that seemed genuinely offended at my presence and absence of pedals and a seat. They fell into the train spotter category of the cycling world. I suppose this is why I enjoy going against the grain it helps me understand how people think and its a positive way to do it. Lets face it I could learn about human psychology by accosting shoppers to sign up to a charity in City Centres but this would just create a bias perception and induce negativity. Take to the road shake off some cobwebs, this should be part of the national curriculum. This is the mildly schizophrenic bit where I play the Devils advocate to myself "Well what's right for one person isn't necessarily right for another" REPLY Yes it is get off your arse and see the chuffin world.
Never one to miss an opportunity for a plug you can read about my push scooter capers if you type in Matt parry NGP productions into Google.
After reflection the signposts for Stradbelly came into view its time to think in the now ...well it was time to think in the now at that time its now time to be in a different now to reflect on coming into the now if you catch my drift. Well actually the now is changing again I think its time to clock off from this blog, its been concocted at Sharon's house. She is a vivacious performer and recent mother. Whilst writing this blog I am cat sitting and looking after the house. She is in Turkey and the neighbour is pumping out pap music
Don't act like I never told you
Don't act like I never told you ooooooh
With that cheesy rap music layered over the top. The sort of music that reminds you of that stage you went through watching MTV and eating pot noodles. I havnt watched TV for 4 years now but I can guarantee if I flicked onto the music channel it would be a question of minutes before a rap singer with his sexy hoes fills the screen.
Don't act like I never told you
Don't act like I never told you
Oh shit the party goers are spilling out onto the street
Who are ya
Who are ya
Get of him he's all mine
I'm not a old git but this sudden adolescent activity homing in on my physique leaves me no choice but to put the latch on and hide in bed. I suppose its more reasurring to listen to belligerent adolescents on the Street than adults being belligerent adolescents. I was once chased by 20 football fans for conducting an experiment by digging up a worm in the
neighbouring rival football town of Blackburn and a worm in my home town of Burnley. I put them on a little stall outside Turf Moor F.C in Burnley and like the Pepsi challenge but without the fizz asked the fan from each Team to pick out their preferred worm. My results were conclusive the ground was not richer in either town which meant that psychological superiority was not a requirement of being a football fan. A friend received an email the other day that gangsters in South London are leaving their lights off on their car and the first car that flashes them will but chased and to initiate yourself into the gang a shot has to be fired into the car that flashed without any regard for who is in the vehicle. I don't know why I am suddenly moving onto this scary train of thought its weird how a thought pattern emerges from just one incident , I just want a good nights kip.
Nightie night
Electric Picnic 2007
The Electric Picnic was yet another festival that had completely its own identity. On arrival G and I were asked not to camp in the Body and Soul area, which is a magical and alchemical cauldron of creativity with all kinds of wicker work, sand sculptures and Celtic artwork set against a healing area, a hot tub temple, a bog cottage and foot spa salon with a permaculture garden area and the Irish seed savers in a veggie plot. Our new home for the next seven days was the Soul Kids area situated next to the Village Hall and adjacent to the Sasperella Gramophone bar. Our tents were tucked away at the back of a very compact kids area.
Setting up camp was funny as G was marking out our territory with himself and a bag whilst the guys rigging the parameter fence at the top end of the festival were closing in on us and I have never seen a metal barrier fence go up so fast, it was like watching ten gigantic field mice scuttle around to knock a fence together. So there he was G shouting over to me whilst I was sat in the car " get the gear get the gear quick before its too late" Within seconds G was talking to me through a fence, I was sat in the car and had to drive round to the front of our performance space to trudge the gear through the performers tent to our patch for the next week.. The experience had a sort of ...your mate is about to step onto the same tube train as you and the doors close and you loose him as the train sets off .... feel to it. Its humour of inconvenience Rick once told me a funny story about travelling up to the mountains about a teaching job in Italy he had not eaten all day and was offered coffee cakes which he cannot stand so on the way back Rick decided to buy a veritable feast from the guy with the trolley on the platform ... the food and drink was gathered by the Italian waiter and the Rick passed the money down through the train window onto the platform, the waiter took the money and then the train set off leaving Rick with an empty pocket and a shrivelling stomach. This is what I like about humour you can take the most frustrating situation and its funny unless of course you are suffering from sense of humour loss even then in retrospect it could be funny. Our tents were set up a stones throw away from the cinema. On the first night I awoke in the wee hours to the sound of Pink Floyd. The film the Dark Side of the Rainbow was being played. Its a perceived effect created by listening to the 1973 Pink Floyd album The Dark Side of The Moon whilst watching the 1973 film the Wizard of Oz. Apparently there are moments where the album and the film appear to correspond with each other.. 'The great gig in the sky' begins as the Tornado approaches Dorothy s farm ' Brain Damage' plays as the scarecrow sings "If I only had a brain". A deadly idea for a film, but when the sound resonates through every bone in your body in a one man tent its hard to decipher whether or not you are actually dreaming. And besides I have only got small ears. Time to clock off now will continue the blog tomorrow.
Well today, as in -present, back from Ireland tenths, I have been driving around the Streets of Brighton and Hove with a with a box of Kombucha culture on the passengers seat. A friend of mine who thrives on Kombucha drinks asked me to pick up the culture up at the Royal Mail depot. Every now and then I find myself side eyeing the box and sensing a living and breathing presence. An almost Gremlin like presence of quantum multiplication and within minutes the whole of Brighton will be swamped in Kombucha cultures planning to take over the Universe with its cause and effect malarkey. And yes it all started on the front seat of my 20 year old Volvo 940 with a hole in the exhaust a dangling ceiling light with exposed wires and a cracked mirror for good measure. The Chinese call Kombucha "Immortal Health Elixir" as they believe it balances the middle Qi (spleen and stomach) allowing the body to focus on healing. The drink dates back to Qin Dynasty, Kombucha looks like a large pancake though often called a mushroom. I've tried it before its good shit a million times better than Purdey's. One actor I met on location firmly believed it increases your level of Amino acids and he is convinced it has been bringing back early childhood memories. Ontop of this his syncranicity levels have shot up.
Anyway s back to the Electric Picnic. With only two days to go before the official start I am munching outside the double decker crew bus on a piece of toast and visualizing big arrows over the map of Ireland slowly moving towards the town of Stradbelly and the festival. 80,000 people are expected, with this thought in mind I still managed to scoff the toast at the same pace .... what's the point in stressing. At the end of a chilled day I found myself sat around the camp fire at the back of the kids tent hoping to spark up a conversation to get more friendly with the organisers and Sandra the main organiser of the kids tent. It soon transpired that our show The Utensils was replacing the long standing Lambert Puppet Theatre . Eugene Lambert and his wife Mai have ten kids and in the early days Eugene used to supplemented his day job as a refrigeration engineer with a Punch and Judy show at Private houses. This spawned a TV show and International acclaim.
The question remains how did our dinky two man outfit such a long established theatre company. Lets just say the quote was a tad on the steep side. It is part of the adventure though, when performing and travelling to help preserve an ancient noble profession seems to manifest more mini fables around what you are doing. Well after a prolonged conversation with the crew around the fire about my veggie burgers really tasting like the real thing and pheasants handing in a bicycle shed in Dublin it was time to retire. I would like to have met the Lambert s and the puppets they all sound interesting.
Oooops I gave something away, (would like to have met the puppets) well yes there is a part of me that is starting to believe that puppets are real. Ok so I have gone up a notch on the weirdness ladder, never mind I think we should let that one go. There is a part of G and I that almost doesn't sometimes feel that we are deserving enough to be in certain situations because the idea for the show as conceived and then it became an instant success. Its the performers securities that come out of you but I have to say a Renegade puppet show really gets the adults going and the kids and that's a sure fire sign of a winner because the adults have seen it all before.
Our first Utensils show at the Picnic was on Saturday and although only a small crowd it was very well received. G ended up having a sword fight with one of the kids. When I say a sword fight I mean it was a kid armed with a plastic sword and G retaliating with Bert the wicked whisk as a sword. One of Gs redeeming qualities as a puppeteer is that he get stuck in their and welcomes the anarchic surprise's that Birt stirs up. We did have a conversation in a car journey where G made a joke about being Renegade. I think this works well and should be encouraged for the show. I suppose the best analogy I can think of without wanting to sound too far up my own arse is the combination of physical theatre and interaction that equates to the painting on the wall in an art gallery that the public are encouraged to touch. Its energy tennis and the kids and the adults love all of that.
It finally clicked with me in Ireland after touring other festivals how kids when they make puppets from wooden spoons at the end of our show are very clear about which characters they want to make. Their were kid's making Ninja's Sparticus and all kinds of characters from watching TV. Its sometimes amusing to see who their favourites are.
The last night of the festival capped it all off for me. It was one of those how much is it humanly possible to fit into one hour experiences. I caught the last ten minutes of Polyaphonic Spree on the main stage and that completely blew me away If you get chance don't waist time picking dirt out of your nails in your tent run down their... fucking brilliant ... one big swooping knife spread of positivity on a fluffy slice of appreciative audience bread. After this a random posse gathered from the Gramophone Sarsaparilla bar and we all waltzed down to a dinky tucked away tent in the far reaches of the fezi which put on an amazing human operated and choreographed projected kaleidoscopic psychedelic lighting experience. Impossible to put into words but I will attempt... you know when you were a kid and played that paper game where you opened and shut your fingers to create different paper shapes and each shape almost liker a mouth opening and each section had a different number inside well it looked something like that but it was massive had a mirrored floor to duplicate the shapes and spun you out.
Next up was an Irish MC near the Chill out pods in the Body and Soul. He was something of a Novelty at first. As small stockie Irish MC holding a ciggy and wearing a marquee size Guinness t-shirt. He was standing there is a static unanimated like manner but really rockin it out on the mic with a DJ hidden away in the corner. With his deep Irish accent, power in his voice and comedic lyrics I would book this guy for my birthday anyday. Bit pissed I cant remember his name .... if this blog does extend beyond my number one and only fan Nadia and you know of the MC I am referring to could you please get in touch.
The end of this hour crescendo's with a Ferris wheel experience during which I grasped the concept of time travel. The wheel was run by the Fosset family was the oldest circus-owning family in Britain. At times, as many as five generations of Fossetts worked together in the show. In the 1930s, to help draw the crowds to the ring, Dennis Fossett's father, "Long Tom", bought two former circus elephants, Salt and Saucy, from Dudley Zoo.
I did spot a couple of the Fossett's sat having a drink earlier I have never seen so much History in one face (and I say that in the nicest possible way). The older lady had a pasty look with jet black hair and a stern expression with a real tough feeling coming through.
Back to the wheel and time travel.
When you are in the spinney carriage and you start to spin yourself faster and faster and faster and faster and the main big wheel with all the other spinney carriages starts moving around, the time it takes to get from the start with the attendant to the top overlooking a blurred spinning festival and back to the bottom again to hear the clink of the gate from the attendant helping you out, there is a feeling there is a feeling that the whole thing only took five seconds. If however you don't spin your carriage like a normal person and view the festival like a normal person and leave the carriage walking in a straight line without crashing into everything like a normal person the whole experience takes much longer. Now if Stephan Hawkins is reading this could he please get back to me A.S.A.P as I have money riding on this and as far as I am concerned this is time travel at the expense of bringing doughnuts back up for romantic couples to witness in full view. (didn't happen to me by the way lets be clear about that) . Nadia if you could contact Hawkins and tell him that I need two readers of this blog not just yourself come on now Nadia don't be greedy.
At the end of the evening I went back to my tent for a cat nap and in darkness amongst trucks with reversing sirens, the cinema sound and the Irish crew going into fifth gear with the Guinness supply next to my tent I could hear a rustling sound in Gs tent I knew G was out so decide to check it out.
Pulling back the opening to the bell tent a shadow of someone moving cautiously with a torch was in Gs tent. I started off with a hello to get the conversation rolling. A Dublin accent came back to me.
BLAGGER 1 = Me Matt Whistler BLAGGER 2 = The T Leaf G = Geatan (other half of Utensils show)
B2 Oh here you are Ive been looking for you everywhere
B1 Looking for me I said" As he came into the torch light a young Irish lad with a hat on said B2 Oh its not you I was looking for a friend
B1 What made you think it was this tent
B2 Oh erm yeah well I was looking for the crew tent
B1 The crew tent, you wont find the crew tent, behind that rucksack you were looking behind when I walked in
B2Jesus your right so you are
B2 Is that your Buddha on the silver food tray over their ?
Their was a big wooden carved out Buddha on a metal tray in candle light
B1No this is not my tent, can we talk outside the tent it would be nice to put a face to the voice
I decided to keep it all as amicable as possible just in case he was carrying a flick
We stepped outside
The manner of this guy was spectacular, he knew that I knew he was a T Leaf, but his smooth talking made me realise this was a peculiar meeting of minds.
B2 Can I give you a cigarette it sure is a nice night tonight isn't it
B1 Thanks, so you managed to get in without a band on your wrist that's impressive
B2 Yeah I need to meet up with someone do you mind if I go back in the tent and pray to the Buddha its a bit of a personal thing like
B1That's a really nice idea I don't mind at all
He set off to go back into the tent and just as he was about to dissappear into the darkness of tent I chirped up
B1 Their is just one thing though!
He turned round and looked me in the eye
B1 Its just that the guy who owns this tent has just been let out and he suffers from severe schizophrenia and I cannot be responsible for any violent reactions he might have if he sees you in his tent. The last person that upset him he swung round in the air for over three hours without so much as a kit kat inbetween and that was just the warm up, what followed should not be brought out into the public domain for legal reasons.
B2 Oh you mean he's got mental problems like
B1You learn quickly
B2 Maybe we should go into the festival
B1 I will second that
As we wondered into the festival through the kids tent by pure coincidence G was walking towards me.
G : Alright Matt.
He was starring at the lad and the lad was probably wondering if this was the guy who had just got out with mental problems. Let me add at this stage I am not knocking anyone with mental problems, the conversation was very of the moment.
B1 G this is Simon.
G Oh right.
The boy was looking a bit edgy but still speaking in a smooth way.
G : Thats a nice hat you have got on.
At which point I said it looks a bit like yours G
G: No mine has got a grease stain and some glitter at the top.
For me the penny still hadn't dropped, I said to him do you mind if I try your hat on ?. I love hats. Simon willingly passed me the hat and sure enough their was some speckles of glitter and a grease stain at the top. I said to the kid move it. He still stood their looking confused because up to that point I had been really friendly with him, he couldnt switch in his mind to seeing that I was telling him to fuck off. Beat it kid ( I went into American movie mode). He slowly started to walk off. I passed the Hat to G then said that kid was riffling through your stuff and this is your hat. G ran after him and calmly asked him to empty his pockets. The kid offered G 50 Euros not to dob him in. After checking the pockets he let the smooth talking scoundrel disappear into the chaos of the festival never to be seen again. What an eventful evening that turned out to be. The hat part of it was one of those weird fouth dimensional situations were the outcome was very much mapped out through fete. G didnt know it was his hat at first, I had know idea the hat was Gs and was just trying it on to be friendly and smooth and the kid had no idea whether either of us knew that the hat was Gs and whether or not G was the crazy guy in question.
Sunday was different I was sat in the cinema watching the Al Gore film an Inconvenient Truth and found myself being all cynical. Not so much about the content but about the fact that Al Gore is a marketing genius. He seems to have tapped into the minds of every hippy around the world with that kind of support you can work your own agenda.
The film premièred at the 2006 Sundance Film Festival and opened in New York and Los Angeles on May 24, 2006. Earning $49 million at the box office worldwide, An Inconvenient Truth is the fourth-highest-grossing documentary film to date in the United States, after Fahrenheit 9/11, March of the Penguins and Sicko. The film's distributor, Paramount Classics, is donating 5% of the box office receipts and Gore is donating all of his proceeds from the film to the Alliance for Climate Protection (of which Gore is both founder and chairman). The film was released on DVD by Paramount Home Entertainment on November 21, 2006. An Inconvenient Truth was well received by film critics, scientists, and politicians and won two Academy Awards. It is also being used in school science curricula around the world.Global warming sceptics have criticized the film, calling it "exaggerated and erroneous".
Well its been yet another festival going experience. I am feeling though that I have had a creative overdose and festival bubbles are probably not good for the mind. A few fields and trees is what's required. And the next dot on the map is Tara.
G wanted to support and help defend the Gabhra Valley which is next to the Hill of Tara. Ireland's ancient and ceremonial mystical capital. The whole Valley is part of a Sacred complex and is one of the most significant archaeological significant places in the world. Paid for and monitored by the National Roads Authority, in recent months burial grounds have been desecrated and a massive woodhenge is now under threat. What can the Utensils do ? well we can put a puppet show on Tara Hill of course.
Arriving at Tara was a classic comedy moment up on Hill was one pub and two drunk guys with their bicycles. We asked them for directions to the camp and the conversation started
"So what are you protesting fer"
Well we came to do a puppet show
"And what do you intend to do with these puppies"
"No sorry a puppet show"
"I see, well you will find the camp just down their and don't hurt the puppies will yer now"
I don't really know where to start and finish partly because I was so blown away by the experience that I didn't keep notes of the event. It was great to meet so many characters all interested in the same cause. Their was a harp player and old school activists mixed in with a loopy druid tinkering away on his old flute. The last night G and I put on our puppet show and we really felt like their was something meaningful happening during that 30 minutes of Utensil madness. I don't regard myself as a hardcore protester and tend to project my thinking about the world through mirth but the earthliness in one tent in one amazing experience will stick in my mind for the rest of my living days. Very powerful and cant be fully expressed in this blog.
So that's it the festival tour with the life of the kitchen drawer 2007.
There was one last performance though I cant clock off without mentioning the Brighton Kids Food festival. Talk about frenzied. We played to our biggest audience of kids. The first show was a duffer audience reaction was pap and the Brighton audience are spoilt with creativity so you really have to go the extra mile to make it happen. The second show we made lemonade with Gava syrup and had the usual exploding drink. The kids went ballistic and charged the wall paper paper paste table to make puppets at the end. The electricity in the air was unbelievable. Well theirs more to come on the demise of my involvement with the Utensils and Radio West Pier and the BBC. Theirs still a glimmer of reigniting an old project which I shelved years ago due to lack of sponsorship which could involve me travelling across America on my self propelled push scooter. The life an times of a chronically indecisive performer is well in progress. If I had to honest though Radio West Pier deserves to be a success and this I feel is the way forward... although given half the chance travelling across America on a push scooter would be great comedy inspiration. Oh Director and production company with purse strings to pull where art thou where art thou
BLOG 6
Well what's in the next instalment
The Identity show with Donny Osmond
A car caked in glitter
The long established fart club
A cheque for £2.50 and my presentation of episode three to the worlds biggest ad agency.
Pete the young budding Director that needs to ask for directions to find an A to Z
For now I am going to lessen the lightly hood of repetitive strain injury and retire to my pastoral duties, I knicked that last line off Tristram Shandy Drinker as can be seen on episode three.
Posts
