Musical me

If you ever see a mad woman, at a bus stop, on a station platform, or just walking down the street, who’s doing high kicks, jazz hands and all manner of corny dance moves with her earphones rammed firmly in her ears, chances are, it’ll be me. And that, my friends, will mean I have finally cracked and lost the onging battle I have been fighting for many years now. Not the battle against insanity, that one was over long ago, when we decided on a truce that has been precariously kept ever since. No, the battle against musical me.

So here it is, I have decided I can no longer live with this shameful secret, I’m coming out, right here right now: mum, dad, I’m sorry, but I love musicals.

Well, actually, they already know. You see, I have (many) a dark secret in my past. Back when I was pretending to be a Student of English, I somehow ended up taking part in quite an adventure of the musical persuasion. I won’t go into detail, it almost deserves a whole post of its own, but, well, I somehow found myself co-translating, co-producing and co-directing the Rocky Horror Show, on stage, in French, with some insane chappy I had met at school. You know who you are.

In fact, I guess that wasn’t really the origin of my musical-philia, it merely revived the dormant embers lit many years before at primary school, the day I got one of the lead roles in the school production of Oliver! (their exclamation mark, not mine). Of course, my stage resumé being pretty much “can’t sing, can’t dance, can act a little”, I got the only lead role with no singing or dancing. And because all the boys at my school were even less talented (and less enthusiastic) than me, all the leads were played by girls, and my designated role was Bill Sykes. No matter, I still hummed along with the others and waggled my feet in time with the steps.

And that is what I am now condemned to do; wriggle my toes and nod my head along with the music every time my iPod shuffles into a show tune, which it does quite often, given the contents of my current musical library. So damn my restless feet, and a curse on all those who have ever encouraged this obsession: Nick, Reg, Tony, all the others, may you forever take a jump to the right, and then a step to the left. MuahAHahahahahahahaha! (Exit stage left)

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4 thoughts on “Musical me

  1. Put your hands on your hips
    You bring your knees in tight
    But it’s the pelvic thrust
    That really drives you insane
    Let’s do the time warp again!
    Let’s do the time warp again!

    1. Oh yes I did recognise myself ! And by the way…. Tigg, I absolutely adored Spamalot and Wicked… I don’t suppose you have some spare time ? 😉

      1. Sure, let me know when you move to Dublin! (I’m also game if it’s Mamma Mia, Hairspray, Oliver, My Fair Lady or… well, pretty much anything.) ;o)

      2. Well Spamalot’s already done in french, I’m going to see it next week end, and hairspray should enter in production pretty soon in Paris but there’s still plenty of other things to do 😉

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