Struggled with 2 x bulging suitcases on foot to Victoria Station for Train to Brighton to start this lousy rotten stinking tour. The Socialists are planning to riot again so let’s hope a fascist dictatorship is in place by the time I return. It is appalling how brave Fred Goodwin is being victimised. If this Government had any guts it would empower banks & lenders to foreclose on all Credit Users immediately & that would teach this country a robust lesson about living within its means instead of making Super Savers like myself suffer. On the Train I gazed at pictures of the reformed S. Ballet. Big Tony as usual too big to fit into the picture so has to bend down & grin. Gary looking ravaged. Martin really is a sneaky dish in that smart suit. Got v. aroused but no dust allowed on the windows in this carriage alas. Keeble College Oxford looks like my window cleaner. Probably IS my window cleaner come to think of it. I lent him £10.00 Sterling back in the Apollo days so consider my obligations fully discharged.
In Brighton we worked up a routine where I performed “I Love To Go Swimmin’ With Wimmin” in a brave knight of armour’s suit & several strategically pumped nasturtia but Kenwright put the doorstop on it straightway. “This speech has to be done seriously” she intoned. Dunno why he engaged me then since I am here to raise laughs. Fuck knows the strippy show needs it. Audience of 28. First act went well but we lost them during the drear interminable Frances de la Tour/Googie Withers dialogue section & never really got them back. Only 1 x curtain call. I am not going anywhere near London with this play in its present state. Dreamed fitfully of Martin Kemp fuelling piston peanut tubercles rather than sitting on sofas. Wettish trad but the red overpowered the nascent pink of cumulative Cortazar.
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