A bad joke

Last night we got some culture into us. It was Shaun’s idea actually. On occasion he comes up with this idea from nowhere to go and see a show or a play. I encourage him. I know a lot of women who would dearly love to do those sorts of things but couldn’t get their husbands there for all the money in the world.

So he bought the tickets, organised 3 other couples to come along and booked dinner out first. It was set to be a good evening. The play has gotten rave reviews. The entire season is booked out and several people I know have seen it and said good things about it. Shaun found out about it from his hairdresser, who swore it was one of the most amazing performances he has seen. We even have a friend (who is a professional actress) in one of the main roles.

So we headed out. I had been warned that it was exceptionally long, which isn’t ideal at the moment considering bedtime for me is about 8:30pm. But like I said, I want to encourage Shaun. As soon as the show started I knew it was a mistake. It was a strange cross between a play and a musical. It looked like a school production. A narrator would walk across the stage announcing what was about to happen. A couple of actors in bad makeup and awful costumes would do a few things and then they would suddenly stop and a prop person would run out and hand them a microphone on a lead that stretched the length of the stage and they’d break into something only slightly resembling a song. And these are actors remember, not singers.

They would warble their way through the almost-songs which were several octaves too high for their voices and then the prop person would run back across and take the mics. At first I thought it was a joke. After 3 hours I realised that the joke was on us.

We considered sneaking out at intermission and just pretending we thought it was the end. We stayed because we figured that it must be about to get REALLY good. Either that or there was some theatrical thing that we were missing. But no, I spent the entire second half trying to look at my watch and stretch my legs without kicking the person in front.

By the time the final scene came on we were all in fits of hysterical giggles brought on by pure shock. When the guy in the policeman costume flew across the stage on a wire, warbling a song, it because apparent that no, there was nothing we were missing, except perhaps the LSD that is clearly a prerequesite to seeing the show.

We stood outside afterwards for several minutes, completely speechless. That’s quite a feat for a group of 8 people.

And we all agreed that Shaun can’t go back to that hairdresser ever again.

On an unrelated note: I’m swapping this pacific island for another and heading on holiday for a week. There will be no blogging…


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