They think it's all over...it is now!

So after three weeks and a few days of previews, Edinburgh 2008 is finally wrapped up. We had a good run--two weeks of sold out shows, some great reviews (see previous posts), and some bonding with poets and northern stand-up comedians. Despite being rained on most of the time, we managed to keep our spirits up and our puppets held high. The verdict--two shows late at night is not quite as fun as one show a little earlier, the Free Fringe does really well in the middle of a credit crunch, and red paint in a ketchup bottle is much less smelly than using actual ketchup. Take these lessons to heart, and use them wisely.

I spent the week after walking the West Highland Way, a 95-mile walk from Glasgow to Fort William, and am putting that up on a blog as well, for anyone who wants to relive the moments of that epic adventure. Kitty, Andy, and Tom just went back to Norwich and drank gin. I'm thinkinig they were the smarter ones here.

It's on to other projects now. Tom, Andy, and I will be working with the inestimable Tom Francis on another Coalition. Kitty will continue to build her mighty KitMit empire, and she and I will be working on some evil project in January and February. As for next year, we'll probably be back next year for another intoxicating and brutal August that is the Edinburgh Fringe.

Hopefully this will be followed up with a Shitty tour in the fall and spring, and we've discussed the possibility of doing the Adelaide Fringe or Montreal's Just for Laughs comedy festival. We've also got the possibility of playing a show in Helsinki, with Finland's #1 stand up comic, Ismo Leikoa. It's gonna r0xx0r.

I'll leave you with a photo I took on my return from the 95-mile hike. This is what Edinburgh's Royal Mile looks like when not mobbed with fire-breathers, midgets, musicians, and millions of fliers.

Till next year, we out bitches!

-Us

The Toys Go Winding Down

So here's the thing. It's almost over. We're on the metaphorical bus ride home. Eyes half closed, rocking slightly, slurring, and all filthy tired. Kitty and I were discussing it today, and it's the kind of tired a single nap, or day off, or trip to the beach won't fix. It's the all-encompassing bone weary of people who have been awakened at least four times in the night by rabbits smashing into the side of their cages, cats tearing across hardwood floors into faces, snoring, farting, people talking to themselves in their sleep, and seagulls trying to get laid by screeching as loudly as they can.

Shows have been sold out over the weekend, though we still aren't finding our crowd. We've got a lot of silver hairs in the Arts shows, and most of them aren't willing to go with the convention of a dirty puppet show. It's too bad, I think Arts is the funnier show, but what you gonna do?

Everyone's good. Everyone's tired. I think we're about ready to come home.

Till lates

Shameless Mom Promotion

Just a quick note to say 'Happy Birthday' to my mom. Cause I'm stuck up in Edinburgh, I can't call, so I'm probably going to be in trouble. She's apparently on a plane to Tampa for some reason or another, maybe she's finally wised up and is leaving the old man in the dust for some rich retired chiropracter or something. I really like the moms--apart from giving birth to me, she's done some other really cool stuff, like teaching, acting, directing, and putting up with my father. I tried to find a picture, but she's somehow managed to keep her face off the Internet.

Anyhoo,

Happy Birthday to Mom,
Happy Birthday to Mom,
Happy Birthday dear Mom,
Happy Birthday to Mom.

The End.

Fun Flies when you're Having Time

So I've got to write this before it goes any longer. The difficulty with blogging is that it's way too easy to get out of the habit of doing it--especially if you're surrounded by the largest arts festival in the world, and beer. And my, oh, my, has there been beer. I feel like a character in a Tom Waits song--stumbling through the days, howling out the nights, burning fast and bright with elation to the tune of ten star reviews, crashing hard when the people who base their Edinburgh expereince on such reviews come see the show and just don't get it. It's a constant state of bi-polar elation and jagged defeat, a steam train hurtling through the night stoked by booze and belching cigarette smoke and quippy one-liners.

We haven't blogged since the 17th, so here's what's up in a nutshell. Andy got his voice back, the boys had the girls over for the weekend, and they're lovely. The crowds were great on Saturday and Sunday, but we had a very quiet (though seemingly appreciate) crowd last night for Arts. That was a shame because Josie Long and Luke Wright were both in the audience, and we would have liked to have them see it with a great house. Also, after the show last night, apparently a woman stumbled out of the theatre and then vomited right in front of the venue, so we got that going for us.

Oppressed People went better, and it was a good thing--We had someone from the Montreal 'Just For Laughs' Festival in, as well as the vice-chief engineer of programming for CBS in New York. Sadly, no one has called and offered us a huge contract yet. We also got name checked in The Economist, and had this review in Culture Wars. Not so bad, not so great, to quote the venerable Kurt Vonnegut--So it goes.

Po-tee-weet.

For I am a Rain Dog, too.

Speaking for those with no voice

So it's been a bit quiet on the blogging front for a few days. I can't speak for the rest of the cast, but then I can barely speak for myself because I lost my voice on Friday. I was unable to speak in anything above a gruff chunter and got very upset because I felt I'd let the rest of the team down. Of course, being in a city full of performers meant that everyone I spoke to (or at least, grunted at) gave me some different tip, trick, remedy, or cure for shredded vocal chords. A select list, and in no particular order:

• Gargle whisky (comedian Dan McKee)
• Unpronouncable chinese gloop (Max Olesker of Max and Ivan)
• inhale steam (singer Melissa Western)
• Gargle mashed-up Cocodamol (Mckee again)
• Hot Toddies (venue technician Mat Firth)
• Vicks Throat spray (Sally, wife of poet Luke Wright)

but the winner is: the wonderfully named Sanderson's Throat Specific Mixture, as recommended by Ivan Gonzalez of Max and Ivan. This stuff tastes like shit, but is some kind of miracle cure as far as I'm concerned. I had my speaking voice back in about 6 hours, my upper register back in 24, and hope to have falsetto back by tonight. Thank you Ivan! In gratitude, I feel honour bound to give their show a plug, which you can find here.

Will, Kitty and Tom went on Lauren Laverne's 6Music show yesterday. You can find an edited mp3 here, on the right of the page, entitled "deal.mp3". Cheers to Weazal for his ripping & editing skills.

More Pics for the Mill

The Fringe is a little more than just one long massive party. We actually do some work sometimes. Here it is. It's Shitty Deal! Look, a Shitty audience!Oedipus gets nasty with the ladies.


The (slightly damp) cast. Note the irreplaceable Carys Hobbs, right of sweaty.

It's time for the Mrrrrrr. Doper show!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fucking Art, huh?
Little Bobby searches for his hoo hoo
French Impressionists
Chinese Opera, Shitty style
There is nothing more terrifying than--The Silence of the Lambs!

The Starve of the Cursing Class

So due to the Scotsman article, we're now sold out through the weekend. This is A)fantastic, and B)a little scarrifying. The 10-star review in the Scotsman was big enough to merit this entry in the Guardian's website, and while that's fantastic, and they're coming to see the show tonight, it does mean that people coming to see our little shitty show are going to have huge expectations. Last night the audience wasn't willing to go with the Shitty aesthetic for 'Arts', which made it a pretty big downer. It was also primarily an older crowd. While I don't have anything against old people (I hope to one day be one myself) they are slightly less inclined to go with swearing naked Barbies and spewing ketchup.

I'm not complaining--it's fantastic. But here's hoping we can keep up with the hype.

On a side note, never drink with poets. Seriously.