Define Irony

[Sigma-D]

I went to an open air production of "Much Ado About Nothing" this evening. The flyer enticed us to "enjoy a glass of wine under midsummer skies while enjoying one of Shakespere's finest comedies". It was cold, grey and windy. After a self-conscious picnic among a sea of plummy accents the production started. I'm not an intellectual. However, I found myself gently tickled by the fact that someone wrote this stuff hundreds of years ago which is still funny (in parts) today. But not enough parts to have me endure sitting on a fold-up canvass chair with sufficient seating surface area to hold someone only half my (ass) size comfortably.

I passed on wine and went for the Peroni as the bespoke picnic fare left me rather thirsty. What's wrong with scotch eggs and sausage rolls. Why do I have to eat mustard and honey sausage rolls and chilli beef pasties and goats cheese and ricotta and spinach mini-tartlettes rather than a cheese and pickle sandwich?

After the way too long first half and queuing for massively inadequate toilet facilities, I settled down, shivering and miserable to watch the second half. But before that, we were going to get the raffle draw. The raffle draw at these events is part of the programme sale which is a glossy pamphlet that gives you all the information you don't really care about, about the cast and the production crew of whom none at at the performance you're currently watching. There was one guy (playing a number of roles but principally Benedick) who gravitated in style manner and delivery between Jervais' David Brent and Eddie Izzard (both of whom I am fond) which made the evening almost bearable. As I vowed to never again allow myself to be convinced to attend one of these productions, I found myself the winner of the raffle's 1st prize - two free tickets to any one of the company's 2015 productions.

 

[counter_violent]

I went to an open air production of "Much Ado About Nothing" this evening. The flyer enticed us to "enjoy a glass of wine under midsummer skies while enjoying one of Shakespere's finest comedies". It was cold, grey and windy. After a self-conscious picnic among a sea of plummy accents the production started. I'm not an intellectual. However, I found myself gently tickled by the fact that someone wrote this stuff hundreds of years ago which is still funny (in parts) today. But not enough parts to have me endure sitting on a fold-up canvass chair with sufficient seating surface area to hold someone only half my (ass) size comfortably.

I passed on wine and went for the Peroni as the bespoke picnic fare left me rather thirsty. What's wrong with scotch eggs and sausage rolls. Why do I have to eat mustard and honey sausage rolls and chilli beef pasties and goats cheese and ricotta and spinach mini-tartlettes rather than a cheese and pickle sandwich?

You need to move up north. We don't have all that fur coat no knickers pretentious crap going on up here. (well, maybe the Cheshire set)

After the way too long first half and queuing for massively inadequate toilet facilities, I settled down, shivering and miserable to watch the second half. But before that, we were going to get the raffle draw. The raffle draw at these events is part of the programme sale which is a glossy pamphlet that gives you all the information you don't really care about, about the cast and the production crew of whom none at at the performance you're currently watching. There was one guy (playing a number of roles but principally Benedick) who gravitated in style manner and delivery between Jervais' David Brent and Eddie Izzard (both of whom I am fond) which made the evening almost bearable. As I vowed to never again allow myself to be convinced to attend one of these productions, I found myself the winner of the raffle's 1st prize - two free tickets to any one of the company's 2015 productions.

Oh dear, you have my sympathies.

 

[12WBT]

Go watch this, that should help put that experience out of your mind.

 

[Splitlink]

As you say, it was written centuries ago and I have never enjoyed, or seen any humour, in Shakespeare's Elizabethan English, except many quotations, which really are very clever and wise to have come from one person. Read, by me. in small doses (usually, in quotes inside a crime novel).

Picnics are, essentially, an English custom, shared with ants, wasps, clumsy people and wet weather.

The last time I went to one I showed my two sons how to fly a kite. My wife shouted "Look out!", as they stepped backwards. Sadly, too late....

 

[Sigma-D]

You need to move up north. We don't have all that fur coat no knickers pretentious crap going on up here. (well, maybe the Cheshire set)

It'll be a long while before I come back to Norris Green again I can tell you. Makes Gaza look appealing.