Arts & Entertainment >

Wed May 08, 2024 7:39 am

In Walter Cunninghamson's second novel he explores the dichotomy between Imaginary science and mysticism in different shoes.

Interwoven throughout the dense prose (covering almost all of the pages except some bits at the front and one or two bits at the back) is an undercurrent of regret suggesting that the lead character (played by Kevin Spacey) could really have done with some comfortable slippers, rather than the rigid formal shoes he wears throughout the performance.

In the second act of the novel, which is somewhat badly timed as it commences just before the ad-break, the reader may find themselves somewhat distracted by a phone call from a friend or neighbour, possibly suggesting a trip out to the pub or other such establishment. But its worth sticking with it - perhaps suggest going out for a bigger session at the weekend? - because the finale is a rip-roaring rollercoaster ride through prairie fields full of joy and winklepickers.

3.5/5

Tue May 07, 2024 5:56 am

Imaginary news reporter, Brian Shuttleson, admitted today that he had recently been forced to spike one of his own stories after realising the headline was "really grossly offensive on a number of levels".

"At first I thought I could get away with it", said Shuttleson, sitting at the infamous corner table of The Baker's Legs, "but I read it back again and realised there was no way it was gonna happen. I almost puked".

Temporary Editor of the Imaginary News, Joanna Notherstick, was disappointed but philosophical : "Obviously its a shame for the young lad. We were hoping for big things from this story but in the end we all agreed that he'd made the right decision. And its not the fear of litigation, it was just too damn gross.".

Wed May 01, 2024 8:43 am

Tiny rappity-hop superstar, Blue Prince, returned from an enforced period in the wilderness to perform tonight at Burninghum's infamous Complexity Pit.

Some five months after the scheduled start time, the diminutive rapper-cum-tattoo artist leapt onto the stage on fire, but had to repeat his trademark entrance: the first time because nobody noticed, and the second because he set off the sprinklers.

The Complexity Pit is one of the largest venues in Euronia and is renowned for its labyrinthine tunnel system, which ensures that no more than 6% of ticket buyers ever see the show they paid for.

Most bodies are never recovered, but on the BP's third attempt to start the show, the remaining audience didn't seem to mind, and were treated to a melange of hyper-bass over sub-bass memes while the Blue Prince himself described ever decreasing circles, plaintively weeping:

"It was emotional / photoshopped and notional / Everybody talkin' bout the lil' Blue Prince! / Everybody love the lil' lil' Blue Prince!"

In the traditional second-half chair-standing, for the benefit of audience members who couldn't afford the TNY9,000 front row tickets, BP rattled through songs from his latest album, "Rattles ain't just for babies", including the seminal "It's me":

"I gotta be honest wid' you / It ain't just me per se / Oh wait no it is / It is it is it is"

He then fell off his chair, to the rapturous applause of the three people left.

2/10

Fri Apr 26, 2024 8:17 am

There's not a lot you can't say about legend, Benny Brucebar, Jazz pioneer, scat backer, marquee salesman.

This album, recorded live at the Smokehouse in Benny's native Chincinago 6 years after his death, manages to capture the essence of a man who could never be pigeon-holed. Borrowing from his earlier recordings and using an elaborate system of wires, producer Jack 'The Lemon' Squeezer has made an album that is both timeless and of it's time, that exists in space and outside of it, that burrows through the gaps in the mind and slips down the back alley of consciousness into a warm bed of decaying flesh, and out the other side into a farmyard full of crying animals waiting to meet their maker.

The second track on the album, the eponymously named 'Eponymously', encompasses the full range of Brucebar's work in a single, delirious 35 minute extravaganza, syncopated blues rhythms melting sonorously into free-jazz, swiping sidelong with back of the fag-packet free-form algebra, before returning back to its origins with a full rectal-reentry.

In a word: Frequently.

1/5

Tue Apr 23, 2024 7:41 am

Gitench performance artist, Michel Pappinion, has crossed the channel to bring us his latest piece entitled "Pappinion boulez j'ai bouccet mon hesuit".

Pappinion, clad in gold paint, bores down through the planet's crust to retrieve giant diamonds as big as your head, returning to the surface in vapour form ; a gas filtering through sedimentary rocks. With giant papier-mache wings attached to all three legs, he commences a dance 'tres exotic', as they say in Gitance, staged onlookers soon join, naked except for their clothes and wearing masks to cover their expressions of glee/boredom.

When the dance completes air is trapped inside and is set alight, a bright blue flame surrounding the audience until we are all slightly charred, backlit up until about the start of christmas, but warm and confident thanks to Pappinion's pulsating rhythms.

We are transfixed with PVA for most of the performance, Pappinion splurging from side to side and rarely touching the ground, and then its all over, just like it began.

Pappinion will be performing daily outside the capital's North Bank theatre through December. Tickets are free.

Mon Apr 15, 2024 11:08 am

By the time the Mudpickers arrived on stage, most of the small audience were already well gone, having taken advantage of the bar's special 180-minute long 'Happy Hour' offer during the sound-check and not looked back since.

Lead singer Bruce Wickson sauntered unsteadily to the microphone to a ripple of friendly applause and a mild, joyful heckle from close friend Mickey Saunderson (sitting near the back with an extra pint of Amstel, just in case) who ironically suggested that the band should "Get off".

Unfazed, the Mudpickers leapt deliberately into their opening standard "Why won't you let me bury you in the garden?", with its surprisingly melodic guitar riff (ably replicated by stand-in guitarist Jerry Frison, who had managed to learn most of the band's repertoire in the afternoon rehearsal) and its plaintive chorus, "I ain't done nothing wrong // and hey i promise it won't take long // come on babe give me a pardon // why won't you let me bury you in the garden?".

The rest of the set was somewhat less polished, and by the second half of the epic 45 minute, psy-jazz freakout that is "Purge in D minor", most of the audience had moved to the quieter half of the bar where they could drink shots and chat about the recent behaviour of their sexually adventurous friend, Kenny Bootson.

2.5/5

Thu Apr 11, 2024 11:04 am

Daniel Copperson's return to the Old Nick is a triumph of form over factor, of space over spending and reputation over reason.

You wouldn't necessarily expect an actor of Copperson's calibre to appear in a role and at a location such as this, with the Old Nick's aching halls still clinging to the vapours of recent performances by lesser actors such as Bridleson and Cartier. But irrespective of the setting - and forgetting Copperson's much publicised recent tabloid troubles - it doesn't take long to realise that this is an actor, on a stage, and you're just gonna have to sit there and listen to him going on and on and on.

Copperson's rendition of the famous opening monologue is like a breath of stale wind through a dusty closet, revealing subtleties of stench that would never be apparent reading the text alone, with no voice in your head but that of the author, and it is this ever present reek that refuses to leave you even days after your visit.

Please, god, never again.
1/5