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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

Cabaret: Topping and Butch

I caught Topping and Butch Friday night at Central Station which is in N1 and a long way from SW4 (as I found out catching the night bus home). Still, it is good to get out and see the city, even if it is at 2am...

But back to Topping and Butch. They have been getting better (and ruder) since I last saw them at the Soho Theatre and Comedy Camp two years ago. They were also trying out bits of their new show they are taking to Edinburgh Fringe next month. Their show is basically a mix of jokes about current affairs, other topical issues and smut. Naturally at a gay bar this goes down like a treat.

As I was sitting in a comfortable leather lounge suite watching the show I was also a target for their banter, but fortunately for me they were gentle (my name was only referred to a few times during the show).  This was far less confronting than when I arrived at the venue and was greeted at the door by a lady who asked me if I was there for Club Fukk. That caused me to pause for a moment. "I might be," I told her. As she went through a list of email addresses that she had on a sheet of paper I then realised I had been instructed to walk through to the main bar and not go to some basement. This was rather fortunate my memory came back to me at this point as I was later informed the club was for ladies who like to wear strap on devices for fun. Apparently men go down there as well, but I had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't going to be my cup of tea…

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