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You can’t stop the boats: Sorry We Didn’t Die At Sea @ParkTheatre

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Sorry We Didn’t Die At Sea by Italian playwright Emanuele Aldrovandi and translated by Marco Young, has made a topical return to London at the Park Theatre after playing earlier this summer at the Seven Dials Playhouse. In a week when leaders and leaders in waiting were talking about illegal immigration, it seemed like a topical choice . It also has one hell of an evocative title. The piece opens with Adriano Celantano’s Prisencolinensinainciusol , which sets the scene for what we are about to see. After all, a song about communication barriers seems perfect for a play about people trafficking and illegal immigration. One side doesn’t understand why they happen, and the other still comes regardless of the latest government announcement / slogan .  However, the twist here is that the crossing is undertaken the other way. People are fleeing Europe instead of escaping war or poverty in Africa or the Middle East. It’s set sometime in the not-too-distant future. There is a crisis causing p
Saturday night
After wandering throughout the city I decided to skip the Last night of the Proms or its cheaper counter-part Proms in the Park (in Hyde Park) for something a little more obscure.
I went and saw True or Falsetto - A Secret History of the Castrati. It is an encore season of Ernesto Tomasini's one-man show that first did the rounds last year. It is a whirlwind tour of musical history and quite entertaining as he moves from sacred music to opera and then to the music hall. Tomasini has a four octave range so he is quite up to the job.

The venue was intimate and warm at the Drill Hall. The Drill Hall is across the road from the Eisenhower Centre, the deep bomb shelter used by Eisenhower towards the end of WW2 so seeing that non-descript building was a bit of unintentional touristing as well. It was a bit like being a concrete bunker in the venue without much air and with hot stage lights. Tomasini was sweating like a pig towards the end of his performance. The small but sold out audience of 50 or so people were quite sympathetic to his plight. At the end we applauded very loudly...

After the show I made my way to Soho for a sensible drink and to watch the punters go by before catching a bus home. It was my first bus I successfully caught and enabled me to get better bearings as to where the hell I lived. It turns out that I am not that far north of the city as the crow flies. As the bus drives, well that is a different matter. But anyway it was early so it wasn't crowded. By the time I reached home I was entertained by a bad Pink Panther Film on TV.

David Mania
The biggest tourist destination at the moment is the David Blaine in a box spectacle near Tower Bridge. I didn't get to it yesterday as I confused the location with London Bridge so today I went back to London Bridge and walked the extra 500metres to Tower Bridge so I could see it.

Top things overheard as the thousands of people watched Blaine:
* I wonder how he pees?
* Eh si non comprende la toilet?
* Howdoeseegopee?
* Zzzha zha zha zha pee?
and then there was
* Ay Davidgiveusawave?
* Wave!
* Zzzzha zhaaa zha wave

I particularly like the bedsheets posted scrawled with writing on the temporary fencing around his box (which has expanded in the past few days so security can keep an eye on you as pelting eggs and other missiles at his perspex box is becoming a new London fad to do). My favourite:
YOUR MY HERO IM YOUR NUMBER 1 FAN

I thought it highlighted perfectly the literacy levels of London. No wonder the Home Office wants to give new migrants a basic test in English. In many ways it is too late. What is spoken in London now is some hybrid-English.

There also was some stick figure with tits and hair at the site that I assumed was his model girlfriend. Perhaps this stunt of 40days without food is to slim down to her size.

The Sun
Yesterday while on the tube I managed to grab a copy of The Sun. I had no idea what was really going on in this city! I particularly liked the Hook Benefits Scandal story. If this paper loves freaks, then they have got a goldmine in the muslim preacher of doom and hate who has gone underground. The paper is offering £1000 for information leading to his wearabouts... Hmm what would they do with him...?

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