Bluuuuuuuuues!

Guitar Shorty, as glimpsed very fleetingly between pillars at Maggie May's. He learned all he knows from Jean Luc Panty Ho McDonald the third.

Maggie May's

I've been to some great gigs here but this is the first time I've seen it this busy. And I realise that "sightlines" is an anagram of "glis en shit"

I can see eff aw. Basements and pillars, eh?

Spam Badminton

Yes, you read right. This was the closing finale of Monday's Spangled Cabaret- a contest to eat a tin of the pink meaty crud through the (antibacterially clean) mesh of a badminton racket.
Thankfully it was at the end of the night so none of the performers were in danger of slipping on the stinky meaty remains...

Success!

Our first night went brilliantly! Pictured is cultured toff Sir Clifton Sainsbury

Norman

One of the stars of Club Tromolo

Tune Up, tuning up

Opening night at The Classic Grand and I'm backstage listening to Louise Quinn's vocal sound check. Kettle's on, then I'm getting the warpaint on.
Special offer- come to the show and tell Deirdre you saw this blog and get a very special* free gift!
*relatively speaking

Spangled

Though I got here totally knacked after a full 9-5 and runthro for Tromolo (not to mention a car breakdown and lack of proper dinner), there's nothing that a chocolate able and a pint of cider can't fix. I'm now feeling very mellow watching the winding down part of the show (upstairs neighbours prevent too much late night glam banging) and up now is the chilled out performance poet Aidan McEoin.