Tie Me Voulez Vous Down Sport 12
DENMARK | Saturday, 23 May 2009 | Views [591] | Comments [3]
Trieste, Italy:
You know life is slightly unpredictable when your cast mate, Andy, gets a job on famous English comedienne Victoria Wood’s Christmas TV Special on Wednesday, and discovers his friendly next-door neighbour in London has been arrested for being the famous English serial killer, Jigsaw, on the Thursday. Jiggy cuts ’em up and buries their bits all over the place! (There’s a TV special you don’t want to be on.) Didn’t work, though, eh Jiggy? Book him, Danno!
You know the shiny, black, Italian leather jacket you just bought isn’t Italian leather when you get it home and find the small ‘100% Poliestiere’ label up near the armpit. Damn those charming Italian shopkeepers with their accented smiles and their Tuscan lies. Book ’em and make ’em watch ‘Hey Dad!’, Danno!
You know you’re emptying your sole plastic bucket of dignity out in spadefuls when you’re dancing on a table to ‘Macho Man’ for the entertainment of a whole post-show party in some split level bar in Italy. You know it wasn’t really your fault when the lovely lead singer of the band curled her finger at you and kind of made you do it. You know a small teaspoon of self-esteem remained attached to this episode - albeit by a string of spider spit - when you resisted the emphatic calls of ‘Take your shirt off!’. You know, you know, you just know you don’t want to see the video. Call me a cab, Danno!
You know you’re pushing s**t uphill when you keep flirting with a short, strangely attractive Italian backstage electrician for ten days and get nothing. You know your instincts just might be worth trusting when he gives you his phone number and email on the last day. And says he might come see you at another of your Italian gigs. And looks a little jealous when he sees you talking to some guy called Luca approximately two hours before the ‘Macho Man’ incident. Fingers crossed Danno!
Florence, Italy:
You know just where your X and Y intersects on the fame graph when your dressing room is a toilet. Literally. We had three urinals each and a lot of tiling. The rattan two-seater couch with the two throw cushions they stuck in by the hand basins was fooling nobody. The fact that band and crew members would visit not to chat and catch up but to void their bladders and bowels was another giveaway. Otherwise Florence is just lovely, Danno!
You know you should thank the gods when you find yourself indulging in a little archery on a beautiful day in the Tuscan hills before a matinee. And then getting a lift to work on the back of a big, black motorcycle, sitting behind a real Italian Catholic, leaning through the Florentine streets to get to the show. You also know you should thank your cousin for insisting you come to lunch at her Aussie friends’ house that day when you really wanted to sleep in. Ex-pat chat all ’round, Danno!
London, England:
You know you’re still a little smitten by Newman (remember him?) when you speak to each other just before you leave for Prague. You know it was probably a good thing there was no time to see each other over that day and a half in London. You know you feel a bit nervous when he says he’ll come visit in Europe. You know you’re thinking about Italian back-stage crew and Slovakian auto-electricians. You know your bucket of dignity is already dangerously low. You know you don’t really want him to know. You know he probably already does. What the hell am I feeling as I pack my bags again, Danno?
Prague, Czechoslovakia:
You know buying the fake Italian leather jacket was still worth it when you’ve just come back to your hotel at 1am - wearing said jacket - with three younger, fitter cast members, and the 20-something, totally handsome concierge dares to look up and give you that look just before the lift doors remove you and your faux leather from his view. It’s a little bit 9½ Weeks. A little bit That‘s Incredible! Write me a ticket and spank me, Danno.
You know the plum schnapps in some Czech pub is potent when you’re pissed after two shots. And then suggest a third even though the bar is closed. You know your old Aussie workmate’s boyfriend knows the barmaid when she serves up the third shot. What the f**k city are we in now, Danno?
You know you’re going to give that concierge a card with your mobile number and a little message that reads: ‘Text me’. If there’s anything you know, you know that. Give the vice squad my 10 by 8, Danno.
Aalborg, Denmark:
You know the concierge was a deceptive little player when he tells you to come down to the desk at 4am because no-one else will be around and lets you kiss him before telling you he has a boyfriend which stops you in your slacks. Slap him with a thorough search warrant, Danno. And then just slap him.
You know you have things in some sort of middle-aged perspective when your main regret is missing out on some lovely sleep before having to catch two planes in one day. Set the alarm for ‘Bloody Early’, Danno.
You know you’re on tour when you’ve been in four countries in 7 days and can’t quite fathom that you are, indeed, in Denmark. I’m really tired, Danno…
You know that between the shows and the electricians and the London man and the planes and the concierges and the beer and the wine and the slivovice and the cigarettes you swear to leave aside and the bullsh*t talks at 3 in the morning and the security checks and the hand luggage and the costume changes and the laundrettes and the hotel breakfasts and the lycra-heavy finale…
You know what? There’s still a lot I don’t know. Danno. Whoever you are.
Hast Manana ’til we meet again.
