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The Edinburgh Festivals have ground to a halt, as has your blogger, thanks to an attack of ‘Fringe Flu’, so you’ll have to make do with more reviews from Gladys Weems of the Spayne & Spigwell Advertiser.


My final Spayne & Spigwell-related show of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was Wyberton’s own Molestrap Theatre’s production of Yog Sothoth and All That, a revival of the 1975 ‘musical’ by Mercutio Thripp, at Fringe Venue 473, some disused crack den in Polwarth, I think it was.

Thripp, better known as the powerhouse at the back of heavy metal band Garbald Messidge, is no doubt a more accomplished drummer than he ever was a playwright.  Then again, so is our cat, and she’s dead.

A self-conscious riff on the works of H P Lovecraft, both the humour and the creepiness in this ill-advised resurrection (not to mention the plot, of which there is precious little to mention) plod more than Noddy’s policeman friend after a heavy meal.

The young cast struggled personfully with the leaden dialogue, though Rachel Snitterpike, as Sandra Cthulhu, managed enough bathos to elicit general sympathy at the lack of rôles more suited to her probable talents.

It doesn’t seem a good idea to have a percussionist (if we may so glorify Mr Thripp, which indeed we may not) write all the songs for a theatre piece, though others have displayed an awareness of melody and lyricism.  Then again, it was probably a blessing that we couldn’t hear many of the words of songs like I’m Lurking at Your Threshold, for the thrashing of drums and bonging of gongs.

This reviewer, one of only three people in the audience and the only one to stay to the end (professional dedication, or what?) Can only express the hope that the poor audiences and crippling losses endured by the company will deter them from their intended revival at the Molestrap.

No stars.

In fact, fewer than no stars.


 

Back home (as she failed to get into the Edinburgh Art Fest), the Cumbeslobodian Disfigurative painter, Ramitabal Spon, will be at the Flange Gallery next Friday, for the opening of her first major exhibition in the UK.  And probably her last.

Spon (57) is little known outside her native land, but Spigwell’s Cumbeslobodian community invited her over, apparently before seeing any of her work.  Apparently, their residents’ association supports fully the local council’s decision to put a warning on the door, display no actual posters of her work and issue free sick bags to all who do visit.

The Advertiser may run a review of the exhibition if a reporter can be found willing to see it.  Some images can be found on what is known as the ‘Black Web’, but we cannot recommend highly enough that you don’t try to find any.

 

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