improvised theatre

January 15, 2006


Not James' entry, but rather the way I insulted Germaine Greer (as enquiring minds have asked). Unfortunately, I've almost completely forgotten quite how I insulted her - I remember I was the bad fairy, and that I made some crack about the redoubtable Ms Greer. The next thing that happened, instead of the smattering of laughter I expected, was the sort of noise that air conditioning units make when it's too hot. It wasn't a groan or a moan, but more of an intake of breath with too much tooth action.

My first thought was that she was in the audience, and that I was the only person who didn't know. However since I didn't hear her delightfully antipodean tones lambasting me, after a few seconds I relaxed - although I did spend the rest of the show convinced that half the audience were close friends of hers, and that at the next barbecue chez Greer my name would be raised, along with eyebrows and, quite possibly, pitchforks.

All of which goes to explain why we went to Bath. It would have been farther afield (say, York) but, damn, I'm not yet qualified to drive to the other end of the alphabet.

Posted by James Aylett at January 15, 2006 09:33 PM

Thanks for sating my curiosity, Mr A.
One thought, perhaps Germaine (who always strikes me as a game old bird) is some sort of deity in Suffolk. I'm pretty sure the printing press and channel 5 are yet to reach East Anglia, they're probably all pagans. You're just lucky you didn't get burnt in a Wicker Germaine Greer.

Posted by: Windram at January 19, 2006 11:34 AM