May I Recommend a Fight?

Before I start telling you all the horrible stories of Edinburgh, why not start off with the horrible stories of the train journey up to Edinburgh. I made some friends, I made some enemies. Sadly, they were all the same people.

The train was rammed, there was no trolley service and the WiFi kept cutting out. All very normal. The man next to me showed off his incredible snoring skills while a nearby baby screamed itself sick. Four and a half hours of crappy train crappiness. I cheered my belly up with it's last non-vegan food (at least for a while) and my brain hid in Horror of Fang Rock. Then I got a call from Lizzie Roper, my supporting actor in my musical. We had a quick chat about the show and hung up. That's when the happy Americans said hello.

I really do like Americans. Friendly, chatty, warm people who smile a lot. Not all of them, obviously. I heard that Charles Manson could be a right wally. But these Americans were nice and wanted to chat. They had overheard me talking to Lizzie and wanted to know if I was in a show. "YES, MY DEARS. I'M THE GLITTERING STAR OF A MUSICAL PRODUCTION THAT WILL MAKE YOU SWOON, DANCE, SING, LAUGH AND FALL IN LOVE!!!", I whispered. For the next ten minutes the Americans and I were the best of friends talking about the Fringe and how excited they were to be going. They even bought four tickets to Gutted right there on their laptop right in front of me. What lovely people, I thought. "We're also going to see Emo Phillips". Charming. "And Jennifer Coolidge". Lovely. "And Idiots of Ants". You stupid cunts. But I couldn't hold it against them (I fucking could) because they had been so very, very nice. Nice Americans. Nice, cheery Americans.

Of course, this couldn't last. We finished our chat and I put my earphones in and listened to a podcast while doing a little reading. Not long passed when Daddy American started watching YouTube clips on his laptop. With no earphones. Letting the noise blare out for all to hear whether they wanted to or not.

Now what to do? I mean, these Americans are my friends. I can't just tell them to turn the laptop off. I can't just tell them that they're being rude. Oh, no. I'm wrong. I can do that and I did do that.

Well, reader, the atmosphere changed.

I was polite about it and could see that they felt awkward about it but it was still annoying to have that unnecessary noise on a train so I felt pretty justified. "You know, I did just buy four tickets to your show", said Daddy American but he wouldn't listen to my explanations of not wanting to hear a bunch of YouTube clips while trying to listen to Phil Wilding telling someone to fuck off. "You should have a bit more respect", he continued ironically. I decided to quit while I was behind and ignored him despite his repeated grumblings and repeated claims of looking forward to THAT show. All I'm saying is, book for Monday. I reckon four Americans will be booing every time I walk on. Mind you, I've always been prepared for that.

Gutted had it's first night last night. It went up 45 minutes late and it over ran by about 20 minutes. COOL! It was a great first go at it though and fun to have a new stage set with a moving stage. Be nice if they had told me it was a moving stage and not just let it scare the crap out of me when it happened. I was standing on it and nearly fell when it moved. What a fun first night that would have been if I'd knocked all my fucking teeth out. Luckily, I have an American coming on Monday night to do that for me. The shows been edited a bit now and a song has been dropped so that should help time-wise. Hopefully I remember my lines and cues from now on because I reckon that looked sticky last night.

So, Edinburgh has begun. Gutted and the first Pointless Anger, Righteous Ire both went really well so I feel Edinburgh has really begun. Well, it's sort of begun. I mean it doesn't really begin until you've been stuck with a wanker who keeps going on about their reviews or a man on stilts hands you a flyer for a play called Amanda's Last Winter Of The Vagina, a tale of loss and screaming starring The Aylesbury Youth Collective and directed by a baby. I haven't seen any dancers rehearsing in the street and no one has invited me to The Loft Bar so it's been pretty much cunt-free. Still, I've only been here 24hrs. It'll all happen soon. Speaking of 24hrs in Edinburgh, you'll probably want to know all about how my veganism is going. It's going great. No milk, no cheese, no animal products of any kind. Also, I haven't eaten anything. I am very hungry.

On Twitter please use the hashtags #pointlessanger or #GuttedMusical
www.guttedthemusical.com
www.michaellegge.info