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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I've been getting quite lazy in the last few days, since my review schedule has seriously lightened, mainly thanks to the fact that I can no longer be arsed to write any more words after the horror that was Bradley Walsh. He has destroyed my will to review.

However yesterday, in an attempt to get back on track with my show viewings, I popped out early in the day - that's 3.30pm for those of you keeping track - and went to see Owen O'Neill's afternoon show, Stanza Up Comedy.

After the show, I had to run to the toilets, and proceeded to cry for about half an hour. I'll be the first person to admit in conversation that I will deliberately watch sad films to make myself cry - in college, me and my flatmate Jane used to watch Truly Madly Deeply on a regular basis, and would usually start crying at the opening sequence, even though that's not particularly sad. But my reaction to this show took me completely by surprise. I think it was a mixture of homesickness, over-tiredness, too much excitement and too little sleep, as well as the incredibly raw emotions and imagry that O'Neill manages to capture and convey with his brilliantly personal poetry. That show, for me at least, was an incredibly powerful and emotional experience, which I'd recommend to everyone coming to the Fringe.

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