Yesterday's flaming penguins parachuting into a sea of crisps set the agenda for we Londoners.
Chocolate chewing Dylan explained that we needed to get out more. Turning up late for a gig used to get some sham cowering. In London people flaunted their texting as they took seats half way through the opening paragraphs. Not enough time for everything. Go to Stoke or Hull, he advises. Of course it was their loss.
The rapid-fire story-telling, the instantaneous sparks from the audience made what was probably a carefully prepared show look edgy and suitably chaotic.
I'll still sit and watch a whole DVD's worth of Black Books at a sitting and mourned the temporary loss under a cupboard of Volume 2, when I'd only got as far as the underfoot squishies that invaded the shop.
I think the tour tickets are all long gone. Ours were from May and entirely worth the wait. DM4DW.
What it is.
