Poor wee-lost Dylan Dodds. Shame he’s left The Tap and gone of looking for the ‘rest of his car’, because in a skinny sort of way, I found him kind of cute. Kind of cute in the same way that drinking a skinny latte at The Mill Hotel is kind of cute (when the built-like-an-ox-ginger-bearded one is serving!). And in the same way that having a Miss Piggy kind of a smooch with Kermit the Frog is kind of cute (i.e. when you’ve plenty of your own flesh to bounce around on, etc.). It’s not that I, Jay Cool, am trying to get too personal about Dylan’s body shape, but …
Ooops, sorry …! This is the comedian Olly Benisworth – so last year! (Sorry, Janet Benisworth; Jay ool, the Blogger extraordinaire, didn’t really kidnap your son – just a case of mistaken identity!)
But, granted, this is actually the beard that deigned to join me on my last visit to Sudbury’s Water Mill …
At my age, though, young Dylan Dodds, one has to settle for what one can get – focus on the obtainable (Sorry, if you are not really obtainable – handsome ginger-beard man in the pic, but it’s just that I love your skull and crossbones’ shirt!):
But .. Dylan’s gone (and I have to admit that, as I am a serious fan of the Muppet Show (and of Dylan’s jokes)), I’m feeling kind of dejected!). Still, I’m kitted out with a pint of mango cider. I’m at The Brewery Tap (not with my ginger fancy at The Mill), and I’m here for the second half of the show.
I’m here for Danny Marks.
I’m here for Ciera Jack.
And I’m here for Harrison Salter.
So (if you really love him (Kermit), let him go), let’s get on with it Jay Cool.
Danny Marks is on and he’s ranting on. Ranting on about ‘Mike Tyson’s new bestseller about ethics’ and about his gran who sends him ‘Easter cards but forgets about the egg’.
Danny might well be, as he’s now claiming, ‘a big guy who carries it well’. But ‘big’ or not, I don’t reckon any of our young Suffolk ladies are going to be donating any eggs to him – not now he’s admitted to a fetish for ‘Avenger’s lounge pants’ ..
I can just see it now …
Kiera Jack’s rounding up the troops for a group rendition of ‘Loving You’ (No, she doesn’t have a nestful of Avenger’s lounge-pant-wearing sprogs who’ve formed a family choir!).
She wants some audience participation, and this is right up Jay Cool’s street, an evening’s singalong with a colander-wearing-raise-the-volume-enough-to-communicate-with-my-late-grandmother Ciera! There’s plenty of material here, to feed my obsession with genealogy – because it’s pretty clear to me that Ciera’s inherited her father’s penchance for unusual headwear – the spirits tell me that he ‘donned a balaclava’ to go on a crazed-pigeon-shooting spree.
I can empathise, Ciera! We don’t get to choose our parents. This is my father, the Reverend Cool, and he’s still around, still on his perch – still spreading the word …
You can remove the colander now, Ciera. Harrison Salter’s here for the takeover.
Poor old PJ the Booker – he didn’t have much choice about this one! With a degree in banking, Salter had no chance of standing up and spurting out it out, of giving anyone or anything a salting. Jobless and loveless, he got himself a job in recruitment – and recruited himself for this evening’s gig. You’ve got to fell a little bit sorry for him – he ‘hasn’t had sex for two years’ (not surprised with that fresh-off-the-street kind of smell). And he’s had PTSD ever since seeing ‘Julie Andrews throwing herself out of an aeroplane with an umbrella’. Still, someone had to get the punters in, and someone had to help the homeless, so we’ll give him a break. Harrison can have his ten minutes of fame. He can do his own Julie-Andrews’-style stunts if he really wants to. Whatever make him happy.
Tis so important to be happy, so important to live life to the full.