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The Murder Show, played out as it was in a dark, damp leaky cave in the Cowgate (though the venue, as depressing as it was, had nothing on the script and the performances,) deserves to be reviewed heavily in the Edinburgh press, and I'd urge those of you who have contacts in that area to get the thing shut down like a dysfunctional toilet on British Rail ASAP. One of the performers, the one playing 'Tony Luger' or whatever it was, touched me in the face, and I felt very sicky.
And I'm making it sound much more interesting than it actually is. Perhaps it could become a cult phenomenon, as in 'The Rocky Horror,' whereby late night punters arrive in off the street and put the performer through a kind of nightmare via the medium of crude heckling and thrown objects.
For what it's worth, it's the femme fatale what did it, because of her eyepatch, Tony Luger specialises in homophobic 'humour,' and Brad Sandwich and the Norman Wisdom-esque clot in the boiler suit are one and the same.
It's ten quid for this soul-sapping nonsense ... But Edinburgh people, if you're annoyed with the Festival and in a mood to vent (or if you know drunk people who feel that way,) this is your 'go-to' show. Do your worst! |
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