February Sauvignon!
And it came to pass that February 4th was the third Cabaret Sauvignon in the time of the second millennium. And, affrighted by the dearth of guest acts in January, Katy and Beren and Simon and Toby and Dave did put many, many acts upon the bill, yea unto all the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air, from Paul Foot at the going down of the sun to Nice Mum at the rising of the moon. And the audience looked upon it, and it was good. Long, but good.
For it came to pass that the first upon the Bill was Tom Price, formerly of the Stickmen, and his humorous yet gentle observations upon incest in the audience were much laughed at, and but for that he had to go off and do something else, he would have been bought a drink.
Tom begat Paolo Ferrari, (well, not literally) who went well beyond the call of duty (and his allotted five minutes) in calling the people up upon the stage and doing unspeakable things at them with Mars Bars. May they rest in peace (the bars, that is).
Chocolate, thy name is terror ...
Paolo gave way unto the first interval, and as is the nature of things, the first interval ceded place to Trevor Lock, the comedian’s anti-comedian, and one-time Small Faced Boy on Lee and Herring’s This Morning With Richard Not Judy. Perhaps his face grew, perhaps Lee and Herring’s contract ran out, but he retains his youthful charm as well as a beguilingly offbeat set, and the audience fair wet itself, and it was good. Paul Foot (of whom more in posts passim) succeeded to the stage and built upon the laughter until it was a tower of Babel; mighty yet destined to crumble into Interval 2.
Lock 'n' Load ...
Wonders were to come! Wonders and terrors … none could forget the gentle advice on fistfucking doled out by the genial Nice Mum. These boys will go far, we opine, even unto Stoke Newington, and damn glad we were to have them.
"Nice" Mum. Hmmmmmmm ...
So, with a typical line-up of such quality, what can we say but “Come worship at the Church of Sauvignon, sinners! Verily, all comedy life is here.”
See y’all on March 4th. You know you want to. We know where you live.
For it came to pass that the first upon the Bill was Tom Price, formerly of the Stickmen, and his humorous yet gentle observations upon incest in the audience were much laughed at, and but for that he had to go off and do something else, he would have been bought a drink.
Tom begat Paolo Ferrari, (well, not literally) who went well beyond the call of duty (and his allotted five minutes) in calling the people up upon the stage and doing unspeakable things at them with Mars Bars. May they rest in peace (the bars, that is).
Chocolate, thy name is terror ...
Paolo gave way unto the first interval, and as is the nature of things, the first interval ceded place to Trevor Lock, the comedian’s anti-comedian, and one-time Small Faced Boy on Lee and Herring’s This Morning With Richard Not Judy. Perhaps his face grew, perhaps Lee and Herring’s contract ran out, but he retains his youthful charm as well as a beguilingly offbeat set, and the audience fair wet itself, and it was good. Paul Foot (of whom more in posts passim) succeeded to the stage and built upon the laughter until it was a tower of Babel; mighty yet destined to crumble into Interval 2.
Lock 'n' Load ...
Wonders were to come! Wonders and terrors … none could forget the gentle advice on fistfucking doled out by the genial Nice Mum. These boys will go far, we opine, even unto Stoke Newington, and damn glad we were to have them.
"Nice" Mum. Hmmmmmmm ...
So, with a typical line-up of such quality, what can we say but “Come worship at the Church of Sauvignon, sinners! Verily, all comedy life is here.”
See y’all on March 4th. You know you want to. We know where you live.
posted by Katy @ 8:39 PM
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