Join Me In Da Club
This Fringe, there ain’t no panic in the disco – but there sure is anarchy, dancing and a whole lot of laughter. Getting the party started at quarter to four in the afternoon is a doddle for the Imps, currently residing in the Gilded Balloon Nightclub. Pumping music! Hilarity! Adventure!
Three shows in and we’re already going full throttle – Sylvia (the tall girl) has been spending hours dancing up and down the Milewith the rest of our intrepid band, offering the lovely people in the street our lovely bits of paper. They are particularly fine bits of paper – not to mention exclusive invitations to the most banging party this side of Hadrian’s wall – so it’s not surprising that you’d want to get your hands on them. We briefly considered doing a Willy Wonka and hiding the coveted invites to our laughter factory in some of the tastiest treats the festival has to offer – the Well Hung and Tender Angus Burger stall in the Gilded Balloon garden has already reclaimed my heart – but as the over a hundred of you who turned up to our Saturday show can TESTIFY – it’s definitely the more, the merrier.
And while we aren’t going to look snootily down our champagne flutes at y’all while offering you an oxygen canape (not that sort of party) we aren’t shy to admit that we’ve had a wave of A-listers making cameo appearances at our 3.45pm soirees. Lady Gaga, the late great Gandhi and even Jay Z have graced the stage, though the latter left slightly disgruntled when exposed to our legendary talent at dropping beats, bouncing them back, and coating them in comedy. 99 problems and our puns ain’t one. BOOMSHAKALA.
On the vertiginous streets of the fair city, we’ve had a fair bit of feeling like A-listers ourselves – a big pink devil face does get one remembered, and it’s been flipping fantastic speaking to all of you guys who’ve already seen the show. Thank you, adoring fans. We love you and literally could not be nearly funny without you throwing stuff up like ‘David Hasselhoff has flies in his eyes’. Don’t get tongue-tied when you see how naturally attractive and impressive we are in the flesh. Just come and have a bit of a boogie.
I myself have had a bit of trouble getting my high-top clad foot out of my mouth when bumping into the comedy deities casually floating down the streets like normal people. Can I get a suggestion for something Josie Long might not appreciate? Shouting Josie Long! Josie Long! in a spasm of starstruck ecstasy, three feet away from Josie Long, then running away? Thought so. I did go up and apologise to the great lady herself after watching her excellent show yesterday – it’s not stalking, I promise. I only follow her on Twitter, I don’t follow her home – and she was lovely. I didn’t ask for a lock of her hair or propose marraige. RESULT. Unless she would have said yes, in which case… MISSED OPPORTUNITY I WILL NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR.
She wouldn’t have said yes.
All of our dancing in the street, partying in the Gilded and rehearsal boot camping has meant that we’ve been erring slightly on the grandmotherly side when it comes to spilling into the moonlit streets and meeting all you beautiful, dazzling creatures of the night. Never fear. We’ll be out in full force over the next few weeks, chatting you up on the Mile, throwing shapes in the Pleasance Courtyard, and eating more burgers than is advisable. Where will we be? Who knows. Follow the trail of happy, dazed people covered in ketchup kisses.
And in any case, don’t forget that there ain’t no party like an Imp Fringe party and an Imp Fringe party don’t stop (until 30th August). If you’re in need of some comedy lovin’, you can always come find us in da (Night)club. 3.45pm. < /subtleselfpimp>
Oh, I am shameless.
Forever yours,
Duker (so hip she has difficulty looking over her pelvis)
