It's Coming To An End

Date: 26/08/11
Author: Peter

As De La Soul sang, (often as entrance music to accompany unwitting audience members who happened to stumble across Maggie’s Chamber at 4pm anytime during the last month), ‘Three Is The Magic Number’. And today’s performance marked the third last time we’ll ever have to perform this play.

I imagine the penultimate rendition tomorrow will be one of the best we do, hopefully to a response of laughter, awe, and applause, followed by the final on Sunday, where, lets face it, half the cast will be drunk, and I might play ‘Stevie’ Northern Irish (usually the character’s accent is London based, with a few other regional hints thrown in; he’s been around the country in and out of care, up North and in the West Country). Ah pointless back-story; Making actors everywhere believe their performance is worth something.

Two more shows; it’s a very strange thought. This play has marked the year 2010-2011 for me. It’s probably been the biggest piece of work I’ve ever helped create, and one of the biggest commitments I’ve ever thrown myself into. And I don’t regret it at all. The play didn’t turn out to be the festival stormer we all secretly hoped it might be, but over 500 people have seen the thing live, and hopefully been entertained. I mean, at the end of the day (as Jezza Kyle participants constantly remind us) that is the whole point isn’t it?

Obviously I’m looking forward to the comforts of home, but I’ll definitely miss Edinburgh, with its amazing architecture, rich history, and horrible weather. It’s been incredibly fun to spend so much time with the Mechanical Tiger lot, as well as my old school friends Ben, Jake and Alex, and others such as Ben’s housemates Kenny and Huw. Huw and I were best friends between about 1995-1998, before both moving school, losing touch, living in different continents, going to Uni, chatting a bit on facebook, and then ending up staying in the very same flat this month. It’s bizarre how similar we’ve turned out; there’s every reason we shouldn’t get along so well, I mean the last time we properly saw one another was when we were about 8! But I’m very glad to have had the opportunity to top up an old friendship, especially with someone who I completely ‘get’, and completely gets me, and seems to mirror my life in a weird alternate dimension way which cannot be explained by science as we know it.

I look worse physically than I have done for about a year; my eyes are deep set behind heavy bags, I haven’t jogged or been near a gym for too long and I’ve put on considerable weight. I now know how Robbie Williams feels after every tour.

My return home will mark a bit of a detox (more exercise, less booze etc) in a vain attempt to look presentable by the time Uni starts.

Apologies for this rambley and sentimental blog; I should be making the most of my time here, rather than mourning it before it ends. Right then, pub.

Look what Edinburgh has done to me(!)

Date: 23/08/11
Author: Peter

I look like a drug addled maniac thanks to this place.
Nah, it's not really because of this city, I just haven't bothered shaving for an unhealthy amount of time. The bags under my eyes are due to lack of sleep, not heroin gauntness. The shows have actually been going pretty well, and we've just completed our third 'run' of five (all of which had a great audience response).  Had another rubbish review, but I'm just glad I can now refer to myself as 'misogynist' 'psychotic chav' Peter Fellows. That's something for the CV. See, there's always a plus side.

I've finally managed to walk to the peak of Arthur's seat (and do a stupid pose)-

As well as looking like an idiot on Castle Rock (which sounds like a place name from 'The Flintstones')-

Who know's what delights tomorrow will hold....

More stuff that has happened

Date: Author: Matt

I was going to do a follow up to my last blog post 2 weeks later but I'll be on a train then so make do with this premature list of musings.

Most importantly, Rise of the Planet of the Apes is better than it had any right to be.

Turns out I didn't climb Arthur's Seat but "Pussy Mound" as Chris put is, so I'm fucked off about that. Not really, got a good view of Edinburgh and nearly conquered my fear of heights by standing right close to the edge. No, the rest of U2 weren't there, they were probably saving Africa with Bob Geldof am I right? (Hahaha the most hack joke I've ever made, let me write for every panel show on the BBC).  

I've finished Alan Moore's lot of Swamp Thing comics and I suggest you do the same heathen.

The evil version of Thom Yorke in the Participants Centre is starting to creep me out a bit but he seems like a nice guy. 

Saw a recording with a kick ass panel for David Mitchell's Radio 4 show. Henning Wehn is now my favourite German along with the members of Rammstein and Hitler. Hahaha good joke, Rammstein are rubbish. Rest of the panel were Phil Jupitus, Ed Byrne and Mark Watson. Tend not to give a shit about Byrne and Watson but they were awesome. Plus the woman who made notes during the show (I have no idea what her job title is) was hot so that was good.

Some twat of an insect bit my arm so I'm currently resisting the urge to cut off half of it to save from scratching it. 

Got the new League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (the comic book starring Sean Connery although it doesn't now because it's like set in 1963 or something). Haven't read it but had a flick through, starts with a gay blow job and some mental hallucinations so that's something.

Saw a 3 act stand up show called the Age of Treason which was held in the smallest room in the Three Sisters. Pretty decent stuff, some very original material. One of the acts asked if there were any mothers in the room and my mum somewhat reluctantly answered with an almost pained expression so that was nice.

Good to see the family though. My Grandma went to see Dr Phil Hammond or sumfink. The following happened:
Me: What was that about Grandma?
Grandma: He's a TV doctor doing stand up about his patients.
Me: Oh yeah, like what?
Grandma: Well, stuff about small penises and stuff they have shoved up their bottoms.
Me: Oh.
I found her description funnier than the show probably is. Also, so much for doctor/patient confidentiality then Dr Hammond. Real professional.
Also, notice how I wrote that like a play. Thought I'd bring some class to this entry, like David Mamet or someone.

Neil Gaiman is stalking me as is Ed Byrne/ are possible Ed Byrne clones.

People who sing in public are all bellends unless I like them. 

Last 3 KBG shows have owned in various ways.  

Decided I want to be a horror author.

The midget show on channel 4 was everything I wanted it to be. A show about midgets.

The Mosque Kitchen is a great place to get curry. Quick and cheap (insert prostitute joke here).

Nic Cage pisses fire in the Ghost Rider 2 Trailer so that's going to be the best film of next year.

Still need to: Go on a ghost tour, see Peacock and Gamble, see Naz/Wittank, maybe see the Reservoir Dogs play although I've seen the film and how different can it be really?

That'll do because I'm getting hungry. Bye.

Matt.
 

Updates for fun and profit....

Date: 19/08/11
Author: Tom

Wow, I really can’t see a project through, can I? It’s been ages since my last post, simply because I find it difficult to continue to write things that I feel are interesting enough to expose people to, or even write about day to day experiences in a way that doesn’t just sound like the contents of a tea stained piece of paper found on a hanging, decomposing body in a rat infested bedsit. My, that quickly degenerated into nightmarish nonsense (hmm, maybe I should re-name my blog “Nightmarish Nonsense” and have the background a picture of me pulling a smug, quirky, gurning face, perhaps whilst wearing a bowler hat…)

Anyway, yeah, I can’t see a project through… Or can I? Probably not, but for the purposes of ever finishing this post let’s say there’s a chance. Example - I’m up in Edinburgh at the moment for the Fringe Festival performing a run of original play “Killing Bill Gates”. This is my first time at the fringe, and indeed my first time in Scotland. I’ve been here for about 2 weeks and I think I’ve finally settled into the routine of wake up, eat cheerios, watch daytime TV (whoever said the media is a holdout of slackers?), meet up with people, go flyering, attempt to give flyers to attractive women for no reason other than the fact that I am a lonely, deluded individual, change into costume, perform, eat/drink, go home, more TV, sleep…

It’s actually more interesting than it sounds, and whilst there have been some undeniable lows (mainly involving attractive women mistaking you for a mugger during flyering), there have also been some fantastic moments, and I’m glad I didn’t completely sell myself short and chicken out at the last minute, as is one of my usual qualities.

Unfortunately, due to a combination of post show tiredness and spending a worryingly large amount of my time at the fringe drinking, I’ve not managed to see many big-name, ticketed peformers, however, I have seen a few up and coming acts that are genuinely deserving of greatness. Of particular note are “Bad Bread”, “Oliver Meech” and a slam poet who’s name escapes me which is unfortunate as this was supposed to be a plug *sigh*.

Anyway, I should probably bring this entry to an end, so all that’s left is for me to thank the kind folk who put me up in Edinburgh (and don’t kick me out for my strange, troubled sleep talking): Ben, Huw, Kenny and Luke. Thanks guys!

- Tom

Broken Boots, Creepy Clowns and Fecal Incontinence....

Date: 16/08/11
Author: Peter

My poor old boots are broken.

This happened about a week ago, as my strenuous moments of stage violence proved too much for their poor leather souls (see what I did there??), and they ripped themselves apart as I leapt around like a madman.

Today I discovered they were beyond repair.

I went to the Cobblers earlier, and asked the large moustached man behind the counter to repair them-

(In my nicest middle class English accent) ‘Hello fine sir, please can you fix these boots?’

‘No.’

I looked at his stern face and laughed nervously- ‘Really?’ I thought he was messing with the English kid, a favourite past time for so many of the locals here.

‘No.’

‘Seriously??’ I looked over to the man next in queue for some form of comforting smile. He looked away.

‘Cannae be done’. The old Scot’s eyes met mine. They seemed empty, sad. ‘Sometimes you’ve just got to let em go’.

I nodded, and promptly left.

Rather than listening to this sombre message I went over the road to Timpsons. This time the man was more friendly, and smiled as he told me the job wouldn’t be a problem. Until he looked at the rips along the back, and frowned as a piece of rabbit poo fell from the bottom of a boot onto his counter.

‘Well, Can you HEEL them?’ I said with a grin.

‘No. That’d better not be shite on ma counter.’

RIP expensive leather boots. You served me well.

Since this downbeat news, I’ve actually managed to keep my chin up and get some work done. And so, I’ll share with you a few brief snatches of my brilliance* (*incredibly average ramblings)

Here are three lines from ‘Soap’, the feature script I planned to finish last week (oops)....

JESS

(holding back giggles) Nope....

LOUIE

(confused) Winston Churchill....?

John drunkenly slaps the air-

JOHN

Jammy fucker!

What a work of sheer beauty.

I’ve recently managed to catch up and coming Spoken Word artist Harry Baker’s show (a young man who will no doubt be more likely to be performing at ‘Pleasance’ this time next year, with Beardyman as his warm up act), a new adaption of ‘Titus Andronicus’ (which my friend Jake hated, but I really enjoyed. A sex fuelled orgy of violence. YUM), and ‘Sheep Ahoy!’, which is the kids show normally on right before ours. As it was our day off, and he’d made the effort to watch us, I thought I’d stroll down to the Three Sisters to catch Phil’s one man extravaganza. It was brilliant. With an audience of around 60 parents and children, he captivated them entirely, and showed off a variety of skills, from illustration to comedy puppetry. AND, he has this impeccable and rare skill, of which very few can boast: The ability to be a children’s entertainer without being immensely creepy. Here’s an example of three of the more sinister variety-

1. Ronald McDonald

2. The Head 

3. This guy-

I’ll leave you with a very short extract from the short story-thing I’m trying, and failing, to write-

The inevitable knock-knock-knocking she’d told herself not to dread. Echoing up and down her spine. Don’t sweat, don’t burst into tears, don’t shit yourself, you look great. The last thing they’ll want to see is a wet faced little girl with the contents of her bowels running down her legs. Especially if THEY are a her. Obviously, it’d suck if THEY turned out to be a cute guy, but between young women turd-related bitchiness could be the wildfire of next week’s Fresher’s fair. Especially when the girl in question is, what the Year 13 yearbook described as, ‘fit’ (well, ‘2nd most fit girl’. Rosie Sutton got first. Supreme breasts). It’d be like that incident involving the light rouge puddle left on the floor of the assembly hall on the second day of the Easter term in Year 8 all over again. Bugger.

KNOCK-KNOCK (‘anyone in?’ it seemed to say. Obviously.)

She’d never known herself to lose control of important toiletry functions before, and now didn’t seem like the day she’d reach an early state of Parkinson’s based fecal incontinence. She was a mere 18, not 80.

With a scraped on smile and rapid bra-not-on-show clothing check the door swung open.

‘Alright?’

A broad grin, sparkling brown eyes, a Bieber-esq fringe. All in all, he was insanely, annoyingly, cute.

She very nearly shat herself.

So there you go. A bizarre bodily fluid related paragraph from a story you’ll probably never read. I should probably spend less time on that and more time on ‘Soap’ to be perfectly honest….

I’m off to buy some glue and gaffer tape. These boots shall live on I tell you. As God is my witness, I shall wear them again! Yeah.

Bad Poem And Other Stuff.

Date: 16/08/11
Author: Peter

The fringe! The fringe! We run to the fringe,
Full of hopes and dreams, there to be tinged.

The comedian, the actor, the singers and more,

A rainbow of talent alongside whiskey galore!

Flocking up north for a celebration of the arts,

Filling stomachs and hearts alike, with a good old Scotch tart (from Greggs).

The Englishman, the Irishman, and The Scotsman too,

They’re all here noting down quips, paid to judge you.

It’s no joke when no-one’s laughing.

Now I know why we spent so much time crafting

Our hunchback baby, our show- the play

And sped up to this tartan world, our hearts on display.

I write this in a quiet bar,

Disgusted by my poor attempts at poetry humour....

And awful, awful go at rhyming stuff.

Sorry. I’ll understand if you close this webpage and have had enough.

This bar is part of the student union here at Edinburgh University. The ceilings are high, it’s a maze of well furnished architecture, and the décor seems to date back to the 1880’s. In actual fact I’m sure it must have been refurbished in the (19)90’s, in an attempt to resemble the old building’s original quaint charm. But the illusion is definitely working.

And it most certainly provides a better working atmosphere than the BU student bar. More Hollyoaks than Hogwarts, young women must enter our boozy hell-hole at their own risk, ready to be sexually harassed by some six foot two ‘ruggerlad’, or leered at by a sports science student with a hard on and a beer-gunt. No, this bar contains meek looking men in glasses flicking through neuroscience text books, the odd middle aged tourist, and a bar maid with an innocent smile. She hasn't been sexually harassed. The ancient books lining the shelves give an impression of the Uni’s rich history (mostly old textbooks themselves), and leave the place with a charm unheard of back at home. I’ve been here before, but Sam couldn’t believe his eyes when I explained this vast room was their equivalent of ‘Dylan’s Bar’. Oh well. I guess the students here worked harder at school than we did.

This is one of the first times since coming to Scotland that I’ve actually sat down and done some proper work. I’ve ruined that now by distracting myself with this blog entry, but I was doing great, honest.

It’s difficult to fit writing into the busy Edinburgh schedule. Alongside the (almost) daily jog, important things like bank visits, trying in vain to get your boots fixed, browsing the city, and watching two or three shows a day (oh yeah, and doing that play what we wrote), extra work takes a bit of a back seat. We all came here hoping to write screenplays but have probably typed about 15 pages between us. It’s odd how tiring it is doing three or four hours of actual work (the play, promoting etc, if you can even call that ‘actual work’); probably because of the constant adrenalin buzz and rapid come-downs. I’m no doctor (officially), so I have absolutely no idea. But that’s my guess. And if anyone from the Democratic Republic Of Congo calls, I am a doctor, yes, and you don't know me, no.

I mentioned my boots a few sentences back. More about that in my next entry. You’re excited, I know it.

We’re half way through our time here now, which seems very odd. I’ve lost track of performances, days, what normality feels like. But in two and a half weeks I’ll be back down south doing (further) work experience of an entirely different nature, before returning home to my parents for a week or two.

Then back to Bournemouth, and the wonders (and random gropings) of ‘Dylans’.

*Sigh*. I really should have worked harder during my A levels. And should probably give up the poetry.

A Stroll Through A Field.

Date: 15/08/11
Author: Peter

It’s a beautiful evening. Beautiful is an over used word, but on this occasion its exploitation is perfect. I’ve got a couple of days off. My ‘mini-break’ begins with an attempted jog to the bottom of Arthur's Seat (the massive mountain thing in the middle of Edinburgh). After half an hour of badly judged navigation through the cobbled streets onto a more modern estate, I realize I'm now at least a mile past Arthur’s Seat, but on the opposite side. Twenty minutes later I’ve been through a private golf course and climbed a small wall, and am still as far from the mountain as ever. Oh well.

One shower later and I’m leisurely strolling through the Meadows. It’s about 8.30 and the air’s still surprisingly warm. Nothing to rival Mediterranean standards of course, but a rare and more than welcome occurrence here. The distant echoes of The Proclaimers greatest hit (let’s be honest, It doesn’t need to be named) follows me past the white tents of the Moscow state circus, which, weirdly, I’ve seen before in Bracknell. I wonder if they’re still using the same bearded lady.

A cute brunette sat smoking on a bench tosses a smile at me confidently. At eye contact I glance away, embarrassed. Just when you though the schoolboy self confidence issues had finally waved goodbye. I turn my attention to the Rich Fuller poster I’m approaching. Some witty soul has drawn a penis on his forehead. Ah, the culture of Edinburgh.

Two good looking blondes in their early twenties are fast approaching. This time I grin (at the less attractive of the two. More of a sure result?) and they both grimace back at me as if I’m some sort of deranged sex offender. Rejection floods through my subconscious, and is interrupted by a buzz from my pocket. A text on my sexy new Alcatel. From ‘mum’. Brilliant. If it had been on an iphone at least I’d feel trendy.

In retrospect the cute brunette was probably a sex worker.

Some spoken word and a Shakespeare later I walk home. It’s dark now. The pubs are still bustling and kebab production is already in full swing. The mood of the city has shifted. But the evening is still beautiful.

This is what pretentious theatre has done to me.

Okay. Panic

Date: 04/08/2011 Author: Timothy Basinger

M E M O R A N D U M

TO:                         All Minions Valued Members of the Bill Gates Family

DATE:                    27/07/2011

FROM:                  Timothy Basinger

Okay, I’ll admit it; we may have made a slight oversight. As it transpires the thefts were coming from within T.H.E. Charity. Boy are our faces red. As a result I regret to report that those fingernail samples may have been a bit unnecessary. Pulling out the whole fingernail without anaesthesia was definitely “overkill” on our parts but, at the time, we were kind of working on a whole “better safe than sorry” pathos. The lack of painkillers, well that was more of a budgetary thing, you know how much anaesthesia costs? Surprisingly cheap actually, but needles! Don’t get me started. If you’re not fishing them out of a crack den they cost an arm and a leg. All I’ll say is; you guys wanted twisty top pens and we had to find some room in the budget so lie in your bed and all that.

Anyway, as far as the backstabbing harlot bitch goes, she will be receiving due punishment in due time so worry not. On a slightly unrelated note, I’ve received a lot of compliments about my budget cut joke in the previous Memorandum. Oh if only that were the case, we are in for a financial Holocaust dwarfed in severity only by the regular Holocaust.

Best of luck.

Dictated but not written by

Timothy “Overlord” Basinger

Is Professor Green Just An Evil Michael Cera....?

Date: 14/08/11
Author: Peter

Since my last post things have improved (although not for Chris. See above).

After discussing life with director Josh and fellow cast member Tom over pie and mash (and beer) my mood very rapidly lightened. You could say the alcohol was a massive help, or just the fact that I really do love pie, but I think the main thing was the realisation that we're here to have fun. Yes, FUN! There's stuff I should be doing work-wise whilst I'm here, definitely, but I think lightening up can only help the pesky work ethic.
Creating the balance between social interaction and 'me' time is definitely key to my enjoyment of this month of my life.

Yesterday we had our largest audience ever (somewhere between 60 and 100 people), and there were laughs in all the right places (and some others!). Weekends are brilliant for performers here at the Festival.

I'm watching Ibiza Rocks whilst I write this for some reason. Has anyone else noticed how Professor Green looks a bit like an evil Michael Cera....?

p.s. Thanks to Arron and Scott for their wise words on tumblr in response to my downbeat blog :)

Things I have seen in Edinburgh

Date: Author: Matt

Things I have seen in Edinburgh thus far ranked from the funniest/best to the not as funny/not as good

A seagull flying into a window
Killing Bill Gates many times. Still good.
Bane. That man deserves glory.
Richard Herring
The Gentlemen of Leisure
Brain Surgery Live (a pretty sweet magic show linked with neuroscience which I nearly managed to fuck up by losing an important card)
Ryan Withers and the Cloud Girls
Splendid Isolation
The most laid back yet tweaky (comic book) shop owners ever
A man yelling "Khaaaaaaaannnn" at a bridge
The happiest van driver ever
A trailer for Dwarf Big Brother on Channel 4
A penis sticker on Russell Kane's face (on a poster for Russell Kane)
Captain America
The squeakiest cat in the world
Many, many clones of Ed Byrne
A man head butting a car
The lamest car crash ever (not connected to above)
Super 8
Street Promoters singing right in my stupid fucking face
Overhearing, just now, a mind reader revealing secrets. Hope the Magic Circle are closing in on him now. 
A snail crawling across a straight razor*
A scary ghost**

Halfway point nearly reached, going well.

Matt

*lie/film quote
**straight up lie
Oh yeah and a massive turd in that back passage Peter found. This thing was huge.

I agree...what ARE we doing here?

Date: 12/08/2011

Author: Sophie

Well it's been a while. Thanks to some archaic internet standards we've all been a little on the quiet side.
So news? Well, I'm wet, all the time. It's not so much a sexual condition as the sky's inability to prevent rainfall. It rains continuously and relentlessly here. With a forty minute walk between our venue and flat, it means that often we are arriving wet, flyering wet, getting more wet whilst flyering, then performing wet, going home wet, and sitting wet whilst watching idiots throw stones at flowerpots on the news before going to bed just slightly damp. I can't remember what being dry feels like.

It's been good though! I've been subsumed by plague for the past few days (which was absolutely miserably shit) but am on the up now, bar a lingering cough. It is fun to believe though that whilst in an incredibly scenic and gothic city, one can become consumed by a minor illness which, back in the city's era of creation, may have killed you.

However, now I sit, in the Edinburgh University union building, eating a cheese and brown sauce sandwich (my own personal recipe) after having just been to an interesting talk with Ideastap.

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately (yup, it hurt), mainly for the same reasons as Peter suggested before but also a little more abstract than that. I got to wondering about not only why we, Mechanical Tiger came here, but why anyone comes here. This might sound a little on the philosophical side but I'm being quite serious. This year Edinburgh plays host to 1305 shows. That is a ridiculous figure. It is overcrowded and impossible to discern one thing from another yet here we all flock. Because everyone knows that Edinburgh is THE place to be. But why?

The 'why' is, I think, this: There is an atmosphere here that is unparalleled by any other theatrical festival I have come across. I'm not talking about that 'community gung ho' feel that everyone gabbers on about, but a sincere, often violent and creative urgency that vibrates throughout Edinburgh at this time of year. It fascinates me because I have 'caught' this feeling both times I have come here. I emerge from shows I have watched feeling 'that's what I want to write...why can't I write it?' These are usually sharp, political shows that leave me feeling with the distinct sense that I have just seen something important. I have just seen something that, whilst may no longer exist in twelve months time, spoke to me directly as I sat there as being absolutely relevant and important. As being completely aware of the time in which it exists.

I also become overwhelmingly jealous of these sorts of shows. Not because they have found success where I have not (though I suspect an adolescent admiration may follow in that respect), but more to do with the fact that they have accessed an area of thought that I struggle with in everything I have ever tried to write. Thing is, I didn't even know what THAT WAS!? Until now...dun dun!....I think.

Zeitgeist.

Good word right?

I have realised Edinburgh is the festival of zeitgeist performance. Call me a wanker but that sums it up. I am talking predominantly about the writing, I mean who wouldn't want to write that ONE play that tackles THE issue of the age. That comedy that speaks to the heart of British people today. That musical that accurately pinpoints just exactly where modern music is going. The THING that leaves people running to their computers, emailing their friends saying 'Jesus Christ, watch THAT, because THEY GET IT!'

But I'm not talking about the writing alone, because this zeitgeist atmosphere doesn't just occupy the stilted creatives amongst us withering away in damp bedrooms. It manifests in the way people behave here as well. Ten minutes on the royal mile sees you exposed to hoards of young people racing around in white face paint, screaming euphemisms and feigning orgasms to get your attention. It's the most intense sense of urgency I have ever encountered. SEE MY SHOW NOW! NOT LATER! SEE IT BEFORE THEIRS, AND THEIRS, AND THEIRS! IT IS IMPERATIVE YOU SEE MY SHOW RIGHT THIS MINUTE!

No where else do you get that. Not at the West End, not in regional theatres. It is a uniquely fringe thing. It's such an interesting facet of the festival! The fact that it attracts young people from all corners of the globe, eager to make this month; their month; fervent in the belief that their outlet is representative of a belief, or a zeitgeist, that above all else must be given voice.

Of course this willfully ignores the other reasons, namely the fact that no matter how individual you believe your piece to be, sad fact is, in a festival with 1304 other shows, somebody probably has a similar idea. Also, this ignores the 'holy shit, I've spent so much money to get here, I have to make it back' sentiment.

But I think, to come here in the first place willfully ignores fiscal responsibility anyway! Nobody goes to Edinburgh for the money. Not really. I am not cynical enough to believe that people come here for glory either. I think, even if we are not aware of it, we are drawn by that sense of zeitgeist. Do we not always hear 'Edinburgh is THE place to go as a young performer'? Certainly I have. What is that if not an acknowledgment of zeitgeist? Albeit a very temporary, fiery and obviously annual one. But in that respect, what a reflection it is on the type of people and shows it attracts! Flashy, passionate, politicised, urgent, funny, rude, crass, at times utter shit and at times utter brilliance. All of this brought together by one festival deemed by long-term practice as 'THE place to be'. The slightly ironic thing is, we never know what the zeitgeist is until the success of one or two shows dictates the answer.

So in we all go, desperately believing our 'thing' is 'the thing' yet having not the single blindest idea of what the 'thing' actually is. The thing is ultimately decided by hype, media, repeat audiences, press attention and a shit load of twitter hashtags. But that doesn't stop everyone from trying to be 'that thing', and that's why everyone runs around the Royal Mile in face paint, or chases old women yelling 'SQUARE CUT PUNT!'

It is also why, I think, it is all too easy for us to become lost, or downhearted, if our 'baby' doesn't lift itself into the big bad world of Edinburgh fame. For all the love and attention and rehearsal time you give something, it does not mean other people will love it. Of course, neither does this mean your work is 'bad', but you must never be closed-minded to that idea either. What!? GOD FORBID!?

I believe self-awareness is a skill. There is little I admire less than blind pandering to a long-nurtured concept or the distancing of oneself from mass opinion BUT (massive but hence capitals), almost in complete contradiction, the greater skill is self-belief. Sometimes, the thing you put out there is not to everyone's taste. There is no clear cut answer. It is neither successful nor unsuccessful. It is the majority of Edinburgh shows.

It is 'ok'.

It is not the attention-grabbing, thought-provoking, cutting-edge, joke-a-minute prospect you dreamed it would be, but it WAS everything you allowed it to be, so it is then your duty to believe in it. Because (cliche alert) no one else will do it for you.

One thing we must never allow ourselves to do is be influenced by one loud opinion, or a negative review, or a downbeat mentality. Your baby, is the one you told the world was the most beautiful baby in the entire universe, then upon arriving at the fashion parade, you brought a hunchback.

So now you're petrified, 'oh my God! I bet they all think my baby is ugly! Christ...maybe it IS UGLY!'

Calm down. No one is saying anything. Sure, other people might disagree with you, but they are just the shouty ones. Look at all the other ones out there who can see past the weird eyes and fucked up back. They might really like your baby. It's certainly no excuse for you to abandon or lose faith in him, because he is your bloody hunchback baby, and you told everyone he was beautiful, including him. So don't be a chicken. Be brave, and proud of your contentious hunchback baby.

Moral of the story is to stop fucking hunchbacks.

So yeah, after all that...Edinburgh Fringe has something for everyone. But what future applicants should probably decide is 'are we that something for everyone?' What do you want to be? Do you want to be that show that steals hearts, that changes minds and makes waves? Or do you want to be that show that plays at 7pm, gets a few titters, a loud clap, and a fiver in the jar at the door.

Both are brilliant, both are necessary, and both have skill. But be aware of what it is you want your show to be and for god's sake don't change your mind half-way through. While the latter may leave an audience smiling and hankering after a pint, if it is not what you wanted your show to be, it will only leave you feeling down-trod, even when you have no bloody right to be.

There's a thought for you world! Oh and stop beating shit up, it's boring.

What Are We Doing Here?

Date: 11/08/11
Author: Peter

Edinburgh’s lost some of its charm for me.

This could be a result of the heavy non-stop rainfall (dampening moods), the mixed reception to the play, or cabin fever at spending so much time together. Will I commit a murder? It’s a distinct possibility....

Ok, it’s not as bad as I’ve made it sound. As someone used to the lovely warmth of the south (Bournemouth, I promise never to curse your stuffy days and cold nights ever again), I’m not built to last in this sort of environment. It’s no coincidence that the sunnier days of the last week or so have been amongst the times I’ve enjoyed here the most. If we didn’t have to go out and flier every day, the rain wouldn’t be so bad, but an hour or so of being soaked to the bone and rejected by nine out of ten of the people you thrust a piece of paper at to the tune of ‘free comedy play at 4pm, ‘Killing Bill Gates’!!’ does grate on you a little.

Yesterday we had to cancel the show due to another performer having pulled apart the sound system at some point earlier that morning, and had to turn over twenty people away. Despite being a little disappointing, this was probably for the best, as it gave us an hour to rehearse some script changes. Taking in audience response, we’d decided to cut down on some of the more vulgar jokes (better to get no laugh than the occasional small laugh and offend someone), and twist about the lines to help with pacing.

A few weeks ago, before the Balham performance, Josh wrote an interesting entry on how reviews/instant audience reaction might affect his view on the play. After being criticized for our acting, pop references, style of humour, choreography, characters and pacing (not only by the critics) I now know what he meant. Is the play actually any good? Or does it just not appeal to the more theatrical/arty types here at the festival? After all, we are listed under ‘theatre’ rather than ‘comedy’, between a production of ‘King Lear’ and the works of Brecht or some other major practitioner. After the brilliant response we received from our friends in Bournemouth, we may have over estimated the reception we’d receive up here. Perhaps they were just being kind? Or maybe they were the precise audience who would definitely get the references and enjoy the ‘real-time’ structure and blue humour? Who knows, but, as predicted by our director, these are elements I’ve come to question in the last few days.

I’m not sure I should be posting this online, I mean, this blog is meant to be a place to big ourselves up and sell the show. If it gets removed you’ll know I got in trouble. But I think it’s more interesting to be honest and attempt to dissect how I (and perhaps the others) are currently feeling about the entire situation, than to smile and pretend that everything is dandy. No-one’s fallen out, we’re all still enjoying one another’s company (as far as I can tell) and I don’t think anyone feels as if they’re wasting their summer here. Perhaps a bit of space will be a good idea in the next few weeks, but we’ll see.

With about sixteen more shows to go, things can only get better right?

My work ethic is non existent, my appetite is more irregular than ever and I seem to be flipping from full-grinned happiness to the depths of depression by the moment (may even be evident in this post). Oh well, grin and bear it Peter, grin and bear it....

Don't Panic

Date: 09/08/2011 Author: Timothy Basinger

M E M O R A N D U M

TO:                         All Minions Valued Members of the Bill Gates Family

DATE:                    09/08/2011

FROM:                  Timothy Basinger

Hello members of T.H.E. Charity personnel. Now there have been some concerns about the recent breaches in security around the office. Well I just want to assure you now that it is absolutely, without a doubt, none of your business. Seriously, it could not concern you less if it, or you, tried. Now if you’re really getting your panties in a bunch over it then just take a breath and remember; it is literally impossible for anyone outside of this company to commit any kind of crime. I bet all of you are feeling pretty silly about campaigning against letting us analyse your bone marrow now. Fingerprints? We’re way ahead of the game. But as I was saying, it is due to these protocols that we can say without a shadow of a doubt that no one outside of the Organisation could have infiltrated our defences so let’s put that little theory to rest.

Now, if you still find yourself losing sleep over this, a series of redundancies which the pay roll chaps are referring to as “Holy mother of fucking God” will be taking effect tomorrow so at the very least, you’ve got something else to focus on.

Dictated but not written by

Timothy “Big Man” Basinger

[DELETED]

[This message is in the "deleted" folder, it will be removed automatically within 20 days]

TO: L.CRANE@B&MGFOUNDATION.ORG

FROM: S.BUCA@B&MGFOUNDATION.ORG

SUBJECT: Re: TPS Memo

Hi Lucy,

This isn't about the report - I'll have that done by monday... This is a little more personal. On many levels, I shouldn't even be sending this message. Depending on your reaction towards it I could be embarrassed, mocked, humiliated, even fired - But, my therapist spent an hour (which alone was about £40 of my grandparent's money) telling me that my negative world view is caused by a failure to take the initiative, and that he can't help me unless I help myself (bastard still takes debit, credit and cheque, though), so here it is - the initiative.

Since finishing my masters, I've found it hard settling into "professional" life, I guess I'm just built for a diet of milkless golden grahams and daytime TV. People here ignore me: the worker ant flyerers in the street, the gossipy trouts on the front desk, the copy-and-paste office monkeys upstairs... Not sure what's with all of the animal kingdom metaphors, but you get my point, I'm unpopular. I mean, hell, somewhere between my poor personal hygiene, novelty ties and Farscape posters, it's easy to see why. But you're kinda different, you're the first woman to have the cubicle next to mine and not request a transfer out of town... And did you know, in all my time here you're the only person who's ever saved me a slice of cake during "bring a cake to work Friday"? Doesn't sound like a lot, but it went a long way to preventing me initiating "bring a submachine gun to work Monday".

I know I'm not "your type", I've seen you talking to Jesse, that flyerer who blathers about fighting the plight of the 3rd world with a tear of hope in his eye - It's bullshit, he's done it to every woman in the office, he's trying to get laid. He doesn't give a fuck about the 3rd world, I'm pretty sure he votes UKIP. My point is, I'm not "your type", but you're accepted that I exist, that's a start, isn't it? We could have a cultural exchange, I'll wear deodorant and try to figure out what "psitrance" is, and we can go to my bedsit and watch Ultimate Force. It'll  be great! Plus we both like coffee revels!! I'm basically your perfect man!!1

I'm not saying that this'll be a fairytale romance, or a passionate love affair, or even a sensible thing to do, but if you want to go for coffee, or maybe a drink, it'll go some way towards convincing me that there's a reason I get up at 7AM, sit on a bus full of dead eyed commuters, take shit from faux-moralistic douchebags who can't figure out how to hide their porn, then deliver pizza to said douchebags who have come home to a loving wife they're cheating on before heading home and eating a carcinogenic microwavable lasagne in the dark. Give it some thought, anyway.

See you on Friday, I'm bringing Victoria Sponge!

- Sam

Happy Birthday.... To Me....

Date: 08/0811
Author: Peter

Edinburgh really is a town steeped in history. The beautiful architecture, Eisner style rainfall and blend of tourists with locals, peppering the place with a selection of interesting accents during Festival time only adds to the city’s strange sense of magic. And we’re here making monkey sex jokes in a pub’s back room.

A couple of days ago, I discovered a back passage (ooh err) behind our ‘backstage area’. The rough rocky walls coated in dust provided evidence of original architecture untouched for decades, which I found fascinating. Then I realised I’d missed my cue.

Just kidding, I’m far more professional than that. I spend the moments before my entrance standing against the door sweating nervously and occasionally crying.

Anyway, it’s my birthday today. I turned ‘old’ in a little old-manish pub down the road, sipping their ‘cheapest Scottish lager’ and Talisker Whiskey, as a man with a beard played Queen on an acoustic guitar. How I always imagined my birthday....

Today marks our fifth performance. I’m pretty nervous as it’ll be the first time my parents have seen the production. My mum is not a fan of swearing or crudities, so this could be an interesting experience.

Later on, we shall explore the fine dining experience of that Indian restaurant down the road. Mmm curry. But before that, we need to go out onto stage once again, and try not to embarrass ourselves too much. 4 down, 19 to go....

I’m very glad to be spending today in such gorgeous surroundings, with many of my friends. Hopefully they feel the same way....

Edinburgh First Impressions... And second, and third...

Date: 07/08/2011 Author: Tom

Hello everyone!

My, how things have changed since my first post. Not in any significant, world altering way, but in a way that I've now performed on stage at the Edinburgh Fringe for several days consecutively. Happily, I can vouch that they've gone pretty well, pulling in audiences far exceeding the "passed out tramp and lost tourist" nightmares that haunted me in the few days before I got on the train (that was actually a lie, as usual I had nightmares about an evil pharmaceutical corporation hybridising women and cockroaches).

Moreover, I feel settled and comfortable in my new surroundings (not quite sure why I phrased that as if I were addressing a therapist - implying something, perhaps?), Edinburgh is a fantastic city, steeped in a culture and history unlike anything seen in newer cities... There's also rain, a lot of rain, but that just adds to a Hitchcockian charm, I suppose.

In between these neurotic brain waves, I've also found time to take in a couple of shows. Of particular note were a family entertainment show "King Arthur" which made creative use of direction to breathe new life to the classic fairytale, "Debbie Does My Dad" a story of lust, love, life and having a dad who's a porn star, and "Bad Bread" one of the most promising sketch acts I've seen in a while. Admittedly I've not seen any sketch acts at all in a while, but they were still awesome.

Anyway, I should head off now, I have some potato waffles in the fridge that aren't gonna binge eat themselves...

- Tom x

A quick note

Date: 07/08/2011
Author: Sophie

Well howdy do.

Been a while hasn't it! Unfortunately, due to archaic non-internet housing and death-defying illness (I have a bad cold...) I have been a little silent on the bloggy front.

Don't feel too neglected though, I haven't actually contributed to much paid/commissioned work either. So join the line of frustration :)

Nice to see that Peter has been manning the blog front though, he being the only one of the MT crowd with continued access to the internet.

Edinburgh has been great thus far! As usual, days tend to quickly blur into mere passages of light and darkness. You wake up, anticipate the show, perform the show, collapse, sleep, and the cycle continues. Before I became stricken with a work/rain/feeble-woman-induced lurgey, I caught a real dose of the show-bug and couldn't wait to see as much as possible! This was a nice refreshing change, as for some reason last year the action desire to 'see things' was in short coming for me. Which was strange, given it's the bloody EDINBURGH FRINGE!

This year however, now no longer a newbie, I knew exactly who I wanted to go and see and when! Trouble is pacing! You forget you're here for the whole month and it's very easy to blow all your money on the many fantastic acts here on show in the first couple of days! Thankfully (to a point) an icky cold has kept me house-bound and I've been forcibly relieved of my financially promiscuous ways for the time being!

But yeah...rambling now, but Bane (saw it last year, still mind-blowingly awesome) and Richard Herring opened my stint strongly, and Humphrey Kerr t'other night proving yet again that bumbly parody-esque comedy can still be edgy, different and stupidly funny!

KILLING BILL GATES has been on an upward trajectory despite being baptised in a storm of fire and brimstone! An unyieldy though spacious and atmospheric venue doesn't half allow for noise-bleeding and it is often incredibly difficult to be heard over the show next door. But we are getting more and more accustomed to our surroundings, and drawing in some larger and entertaining crowds! Looking forward to what future performances bring!

Over and out folks!

Sophie

Week One

Date: 7/8/2011
Author: Josh

So, it’s Sunday, I think? That would mean I’m 6 days in to Edinburgh. I’m writing this from a Weatherspoons, taking up valuable table space from legitimate paying custom. I bought a coffee about an hour ago and I’ve been shielding it, pretending to drink for some time. My crippling internet addiction has taken a beating over the past week, as we can’t really seem to find wifi anywhere, so I hope Peter is your favourite flavour, as he’s the only one with regular, un-cloud based internet.

We’ve performed three times. As you heard, opening night saw a relatively modest crowd, due to rain, but audience figures have increased every show, so far. Yesterday we had an impressive 55 people, and I was chuffed at the way the guys on stage managed to keep that many people captivated for that long. One big test for us has been the layout of the room. I’ll explain: We are separated from another show by nothing but a curtain at the bar. This other show uses videos and music and generally sounds very upbeat and funny, which is grand, but the downside for us is that we aren’t mic’ed, and we’re in a literal cavern. Acoustically we can’t compete with Octopus’ Garden. (Fucking Ringo)

I’ve chatted to the other guys, who are all lovely, and hopefully we can compromise. I was in a bit of an awkward position, as they really are great people, and their show definitely relies on volume (they’re getting decent crowds, too, so I don’t want to jinx them), but at the same time, we are being drowned out. We hit about 50 people, and anyone coming in and sitting behind them inevitably leave because they are closer to the other stage than us.

What it’s taught me is that free fringe is an exercise in thinking on your feet. You get no time to prepare, no rehearsal time, nothing. You get your hour and that’s spent helping the (amazing and definitely bound-for-stardom) Sheep Ahoy! man, Phil, remove his mammoth set so you can start on time, then doing the show, then as soon as the applause has died, you’re either collecting money from people or clearing the stage as soon as you can.

If we have a problem (and we invariably do - every show), we need to fix it during the next show. It’s amazing and exciting and alive, but, well, exhausting. If we were out there, dying every show, this would be a tough city to be in. Luckily we seem to be being received well so far. I’m sure there will be days and maybe weeks when we won’t go down so well (illness is already beginning to strike the cast) and I won’t want to get out of bed [the floor] in the morning [afternoon].

I’ll try and write again soon, my love, but I fear the final push is coming. Send my love to your family. Except Paul. That guy’s a douche.

Josh

'I'm Not A Retard.... Just An Underachiever'

Performance Three seemed to go very well! 55 audience members- new record!

The Difficult Second Performance

Date: 05/08/11

Peter

The Royal Mile in the rain....

Our second performance went down very well today! We also had a larger crowd and a lot more laughs!

Starting to get my head round the city, and haven't been lost for at least 4 minutes.

Shappi Khorsandi was pretty funny last night, and I really enjoyed Oliver Meech's magic show earlier at 6.30pm in the same venue as us (Maggie's Chamber, The Three Sisters). Off to see 'Debbie Does My Dad' tonight!

Cheers x

'How dare you!'

Date: 04/08/11
Author: Peter

We began our first performance with 16 members of audience. We finished with 13. Now, by my workings, that’s not too bad. On average we only massively insulted 17% of the people who came to see our show. However, the rest of them seemed to really enjoy it and we received a huge round of applause at the end. So that, combined with a fairly good laugh to joke ratio, makes me feel pretty chuffed. We were literally ‘a laugh a minute’. So that’s 83% funny, 55% of the time. Yeyah.

Tomorrow we’ll be flyering a little more efficiently, and not resorting to standing in the rain looking sad and grunting ‘free comedy’ at randomers. After our first performance on this stage, it’ll be good to give the new setting a second go too.

We’ve also received two very kind write ups on festival previews, which you can read here!

I bet you’re sick of me being the only one updating this blog by now. I’m the only one with internet. Unlucky.

A list of things I've done in Edinburgh thus far (in chronological order)

Date: 03/08/11
Author: Peter

A list of things I’ve done in Edinburgh thus far-

Got off the train, and lugged my bulky bags up the platform.

Sat at the railway station waiting for Alex Boundy and Ben Christmas.

Continued to sit at the station.

Brought a ginger beer, then waited some more.

Taxied to Ben’s flat (they’d forgotten about us).

Went to our venue, Maggie’s Chamber (The Three Sisters), had an alcoholic beverage.

Had another alcoholic beverage.

Visited the wondrous world of Tesco. Brought beverages (alcoholic).

Had chilli at Ben’s, with the cast and crew of Aireborne Theatre’s ‘King Arthur’. Lovely bunch, although I probably didn’t make a great first impression, being exhausted after about two hours sleep and making an ill timed joke about Parkinson’s (resulting in the inevitable stunned silence).

Went to the pub.

Briefly returned to the flat, dropping off a few people.

Returned to the pub. Well, club, ‘The Hive’. Pretty cool.

Moved to drum and bass club and stood about looking awkward.

Decided to go back to ‘The Hive’.

Found a guy choking on vomit and passed out en route. Talked to him ‘til Police came.

Brought, and subsequently ate cheesy chips. These were proper good ones mind, fish and chip shop/pub lunch style.

Slept.

Woke up.

Had a cup of tea, watched ‘Spaced’.

Brought Sushi. Ate Sushi.

Met up with the others at The Three Sisters.

Sipped diet coke as we did a basic tech run type thing.

Strolled down to Haymarket.

Found a lovely pub called ‘The Beehive’, whose manager gave us 50% discount on food and soft drinks.

Was served ‘a selection of pies (and mash)’ by a beautiful Irish boy.

Talked about ‘Arrested Development’, ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’ and what we’d do if we met ourself, but of the opposite sex.

Realised my phone is definitely dead.

Looked into preview tickets.

Decided not to buy any.

Went home, exhausted.

Turned on my laptop. Wrote this blog.

Yeah.

This time tomorrow we’ll have just finished our first show. Gulp.

The Train To Scotland

Date: 02/08/11
Author: Peter

I seem to spend my life on trains. Ever since an early childhood obsession with ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’, I’ve found myself ‘minding the gap’, ‘changing for Reading at Southampton Central’ and other over heard and related phrases.

I caught the train to school for a while, I’ve got the train to and from Bournemouth dozens of times in recent years, and now I’m sat in a double table seat on the way to Edinburgh with the others. Passing through York, we’re now well on our way. Although, due to no internet, I’m writing this in the past, if that makes sense. Not in a Doc Brown ‘Don’t open this letter ‘til 1985’ way, but a boring ‘write this in word and click save’ fashion.

Today’s been a long day. You can probably tell.

Unable to sleep, I lay awake, anxious and sweaty, and eventually got up at 4.30am, before trundling down to the station and boarding for Waterloo. This journey wasn’t the most enjoyable train experience ever; bustling commuters heading for the capital at six in the morning have little time for a young man with a shaved head and several large and bulky bags. At Waterloo I met Sophie, Lloyd, Matt and Chris, and we tubed to Kings Cross.

The most enjoyable part of the journey was marked by my teeth sinking into some form of greasy Mcbagel© at the Golden Arches, during the wait for our connection. Good old McDonalds; the perfect way to start, end (or anything else between) a day. Ronald McDonald and I have retained a close relationship over the years, and our gastric collaborations will no doubt one day lead to my early death. But for now, I feast!

Anyway, the day has improved since then; we’ve found our calm on the five hour straight train up over the border. Well, so far anyway. I think I can speak for everyone else when I say we’re excited, and I’m looking forward to being in Edinburgh again. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since I went up last year (not to perform, just to ‘soak in the arts’ as uppity theatre types might say). Living in two cramped flats for a month will be, er, interesting…. Let’s hope that a) bodily fluids aren’t swapped and b) murders aren’t committed. At least not within the crew.

Chris is playing some interesting games on his Nintendo DS to my left. One involved shooting flying photos of my face with lasers. Technology eh?

It’s gonna be a long four weeks….