Sunday, April 01, 2007

[Realised I forgot to add later: Yes it is]

Greece 4 600 - 20You know I asked you a while ago to advise on a matter of ettiquette? Well, this time I've got a bigger problem.

I've just discovered, and I'm not supposed to know about this, that a friend who never quite got round to giving me my Christmas present (it's typical for her; somehow purportedly wondrous presents are mislaid or forgotten and so never appear), has, in lieu of whatever marvellous yet unseen item she supposedly already bought me, managed to front row tickets on one of the preview nights for Jersey. Naturally enough, this being a musical which is based around the work of Bon Jovi (and you thought Mamma Mia was bad enough. Whatever next? A Scooch biopic? I fully expect some scene of great brinkmanship to erupt into a mime-the-actions version of Livin' on a Prayer*), the other members of the party include she who is giving me the ticket and er, that appears to be it. So basically my Christmas present is being co-opted as a presentable male to something she wants to go to but doesn't go to on her own. Such a generous gift. Tell me - this drink tastes odd - have you put something special in this chalice?

* I had made some comment about dreading the scene which leads to Paradise City before remembering that that wasn't them. Being such a great fan of the mighty Jove I'm struggling to remember any other songs of theirs. There's the one I remembered while Flickring, You Give Love a Bad Name, which confusingly features the line 'shot through the heart', which I think is a completely different song also by them. Oh, and there's It's My Life. Can't imagine that one being too hard to crowbar into pretty much any show, unless it's entirely about zombies or perhaps rocks.

So I need to find a way out of this, which short of finding an extremely rich, insultingly good looking, ludicrously charming man (scratch the last one, Titian wouldn't notice as long as there's constant money) with profoundly dodgy taste in music to displace me in the ticket-buyer's conciousness isn't looking likely. The alternative is remembering the words of Baden-Powell and so endeavouring to remember the words of the big BJ; if my life will not be worth living I may as well make it thoroughly so.

And I thought the front row of Avenue Q was rictus-grin mortifying enough (ok, so I liked that, but we all have a little secrets, don't we, Mr Owns Three Sugababes Albums? I'll leave it up to the rest of you to work which Anyhooite that is. Point and laugh at will). Wish me power-chord heavy luck; hopefully I'll suffocate in a cloud of dry ice.


I bet it's Dan.

And "I'm not laughing...much", haha.
Bon Jovi? Mwahaha.

You could always take a taxi out of the city. And return a week later with a horribly orange fake tan. You know where I've got that idea from I hope.

Other than that...ENJOY!
Firstly: 'I bet it's Dan'? Since when have I called Dan 'her' and claimed [s]he wants someone who is above all rich? Or known that he is or was a Bon Jovi fan? Obviously you know stuff I don't.

And secondly, that's so sweet, letting me believe you've fallen for the April Fool.

Did you really think the world would be so cruel as to make Bon Jovi the Musical? Although I've a horrid feeling I've just tempted fate by mentioning an idea for a show which disturbingly would probably be irksomely commercially successful.

And speaking of cruel worlds, I've just tasted a transferred Christmas present: Whisky fudge (they were given to my brother, who doesn't do milk, hence got passed my way). I'd imagine you have to like the taste of whisky to get the most from them. Yet that's only one of the tastes they have. The others are oddly like of breathing through a Biro. Most insultingly of all they're not sweet and have no taste of fudge. Post trial taste, after the tongue scrapping finished, I sought out the nearest Fruit Pastille, although I'd have happily quaffed horseradish dressed with piccalilli if it would have killed the taste (even though that enters the realm of fly swallowing old ladies).
I meant Mr Owns Three Sugababes Albums you April fool! I bet it's Dan.

And hey, what can I say, I'm a sweet guy.

WV: pasty - no ta, I've just had lunch.
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