The Only Way to Rob a Bank is Naked

I’m a big fan of public transport. It’s the people they let on it that bothers me. In the same way I’m a big fan of democracy. It just depends whose hands it’s in.


Brief excerpt of overheard bus conversation:


“And who’s paying for it? Us! The taxpayers. It’s all going on these foreigners. I was staying in the hotel. It was £40 a night. Not cheap. It was like a halfway house. Full of immigrants.”


Sadly, I judge people only on whether they will or will not buy my book. These people probably would not.


Luckily I was on my way to the Phoenix Theatre to see the Joe Orton Project premiere. This was a one man show, two chairs.


On stepping through the door I was a handed a leaflet by a very nice woman (a definite book buyer!).


“Are you aware of the, uh, content of Orton’s work?”


I smiled, “Yes, I am. Do you know where the toilet is?”


This was a joke. It was lost on her. It was partly lost on me.


The foyer was full of book buyers, I could tell. The effete old man who walked with a cane. The tall man with the silver hair. Two men with scarves (scarf wearers are the biggest book-buyers according to Heat magazine.)


I bought a glass of wine and asked for a plastic cup so I could take it into the auditorium. Glasses of wine make or break cultural performances.


For example, the Marillion concert at the Wolverhampton Civic Hall was better than the Marillion concert at Rock City. The former served wine, the latter beer. Both had the edge over Steve Hogarth at the Union Chapel (no alcohol allowed out of the crypt (bar area) and into the concert hall (church).


“This is a church for Christ’s sake!” said the angry bouncer.


Will and I had to relay from the pew, taking it in turns to have a drink.


Jesus!


U2 played the Union Chapel this week. Perhaps Bono will petition the Pope. Have I told you my pope story?


But I’m losing the plot.


This week’s blog was going to be about Art and how great Art is, how it can be the meaning to your life. You see, along with the Joe Orton Project, this week I watched Jindabyne and eXistenz. Jindabyne was a film with proper acting, scenes like Carver (from which it came), eXistenz a film with a proper story that was full of imagination.


(Me and Mickie James was sent to a film agent this week. Fingers crossed!)


I also had three proper days editing The Penguin Variations. I’m halfway through now. I love it when it takes over my whole brain. I spent one night reading the chapter I was working on out loud, over and over again. If you can hear me through the walls neighbours,


“Sorry.”


I said that out loud.


Actually I know they can hear me. They complained about my music about two days after I moved in. They called the landlady, she called me.


“H E L L O,” I shouted down the phone. “S O R R Y, JUST LET ME TURN THE MUSIC DOWN. I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”


And that so is a true story.


Luckily, they are not something I specialise in. Like democracy they so often end up in the wrong hands.





Currently listening to - Werner Herzog talking about Rescue Dawn



Currently reading - The Court of the Air by Stephen Hunt

Clip from Orton’s Loot - a naked bank robbery