So, as of yesterday it is allegedly a new year; ergo, I need to forget that it is 2008 and concentrate on the fact that 2008 is now 2009. That is to say, 2008 is no more, and that we are now in 2009, because what was 2008 is now 2009.
I hope that's cleared it all up for you.
So, because typical New Year events, while good-intentioned, tend to be overly loud and raucous, with attendees who seem to encompass THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF WESTERN EUROPE, we decided - that is to say, TD decided, I just agreed - to go to an event curiously named Hurly Burly, which we duly found after slogging our way through cold, cold London, followed by battling the crowds in search of much-desired sustenance.
Er, you know, food, that is.
Hurly Burly's crux appeared to be that it was split into two - comedy and links by the irreverent, effeminate and drunk Dusty Limits (who performed with panache, and didn't have such a bad singing voice either), supporting songs and burlesque dances featuring Polly Rae and her Hurly Burly Girlys [surely "Girlies"? - Ed]. Having never seen burlesque before, I was more than a little intrigued as to what it would entail, doubting very much that it would echo what we saw on that episode of The Simpsons. In fact, I've always wondered about the morality of burlesque - surely the costumes and style of act unnecessarily sexualise women?
But after intense thought (read: five minutes, I can't concentrate on one thought for very long), the spirit of burlesque seemed more to be cheeky charm than actually objectifying women - after all, burlesque dancers choose to perform in that style, and the comments made by Polly and her colleagues in the programme explaining how they got into burlesque more than confirm that... they celebrate it. And after watching the show, I'll happily admit that there's no objectification here - it's just Polly & Co. enjoying themselves.
A delightful range of delicacies to sample was presented to us. But enough about the ice cream afterwards, I may as well review the revue.
Dusty Limits was great, as I've said - he had an unbeatable rapport with the audience, sang some very funny songs including slights on all sorts of public figures (always a plus) and kept things ticking along nicely, but the real attraction was the burlesque itself. There was tittilation, rather than full-on arousal (which I think is the point), some outrageous costumes (although even with the tassles, none of them have as nice tits as... well, you can see where I'm going with this), and Polly herself certainly knew how to work those hips!
But what impressed me most about Hurly Burly wasn't the quality of the act or the attractive people involved - it was just how well-synchronised it was. The dances were all very carefully choreographed, especially the ones involving all the Girlys together. Polly was our star, but without the rest of them performing alongside her I doubt it would have worked that well! They provided the "rhythm section" of the whole thing, and through our applause I'd like to think we showed our appreciation for everyone involved.
The only problem, I think, is that it was quite short. Maybe we got what we paid for (although only just - quite expensive, but a very good show), but when all was said and done, there was only about an hour and a half of show, including interval. And there wasn't an encore. But they showed us what they had (in more ways than one!), and they had a different show to clear the theatre for, so I guess I was satisfied with what we got to see.
We then got a train back to Oxford and managed to catch most of Jools Holland's Hootenanny, spending the last (leap) second of 2008 in a kiss - starting 2009 as we mean to go on, n'est-ce pas?
We didn't have sex that night. But considering the wave of orgasms I'd felt a few hours before that while engaged in said act on my bed, that was okay too. Now that's what I call a performance.