Culture, n’ that…

Mark Watson made a big deal about how the 750 people in the audience last night was the biggest audience he’d played in front of and it showed.  Starting out in the crowd (as he did last year) didn’t work quite as well, perhaps because Goldielocks (the star-fucker that she is), having had me point him out to her, kept shouting at him;

“Coo-ee!  Mark!” (waves frantically, like a spaz).

Cover blown!  He was hilarious, but I preferred the smaller show in general, seemed more intimate.  Good on him, though.  He deserves to be a roaring success (I may even go back at the end of the Festival and see him again).   Even the fuckwits behind us (one of whom had “F*ll*w F*ll*w” as his ring tone, which went off, during the show – cunt), couldn’t spoil a solid 9/10 show.  Great stuff – his new site is here.

Otis Lee Crenshaw, in the Cabaret Bar, was the polar opposite.  If ever anyone deserved to play to massive audiences, it’s this (ahem) “earthy” performer.  We were ten yards away, dead centre and slightly raised level, near the bar and with a table.  Perfect.  The new songs were excellent and the new band (particularly the Wal-Mart guy on guitar) were excellent.  Let’s just say we all have our secrets.  They played a couple of oldies, including “Bag Lady”, but the highlight for me (and The Legend) was clearly “Do Anything You Want”.  One of the great nights of my life – 10/10.  On the way out, I even said hello to Rhod Gilbert, who’s the star-fucker, now, sister?

Next week involves The Legend, me, Lucy Porter, Michael McIntyre and Reginald D. Hunter.  Good times!

Also, get yourselves over to these places, eh people?  Much high-end culture.  The big name is obviously Tracey Emin (get over your predjudices and feel free to like some of her stuff and dislike other bits) but the Impressionism and Scotland exhibition looks so good, my nipples are like fitba studs.  Who says there’s nothing to do, these days? Anyway, that’s clearly more than enough linkage for one day.

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