We came, we saw, and we left… promptly!
After all the pre-Playboy Bunny Party outfit dramas of last week, it turns out I shouldn’t have bothered. My notions of a debauchery and gossip-filled recount of the sexy party at Harvey Nichols turned out to be 100% incorrect. There was no sex to be seen (or heard), the 3 Playboy Bunnies were as meek as a trio of mice (cute tails though) and the party turned out to be little more than an excuse to make grown men pay ?10 to enter a store they can see for free at any other time. What’s more, the unsuspecting sods had to pay to have a Polaroid taken with the three blind bunnies. If the poor depleted souls had any cash left in their pockets, they were then free to redeem a ?10 voucher on any product in store. Bonus! Hardly… a handkerchief came in at twenty smackeroonies… sorry, but they’d have to be some pretty royal nose blows to merit that kind of cash!
The cocktails were nice though…
Flesh of an all-together different persuasion met my fragile eyes last week. Blood and guts filled the small, dank and oh-so atmospheric King’s Head Theatre during the stage performance of Stephen King’s ‘Misery’. No one can beat the disturbing screech of the film’s leading lady Cathy Bates – but Susan Penhaligon sent shivers down my spine. She and Michael Praed showed what true live chemistry is all about.
The Shaolin Monks are also creating their fair share of physical torment at the Peacock Theatre. I don’t know what those nuggets of pure muscle are putting in their breakfast cereal but it sure seems to be working wonders. If someone smacked me over the head with a wooden plank I’d die instantly. Gawd help them when the ‘joys’ of litigation corrupt their happy little stage production. People sue supermarkets when they slip on a lettuce leaf these days. Surely, a Samurai across the chest is sure to bring in the cold hard cash.
For the king of all flesh-baring events, the Frieze Art Fair has to take first prize. I have never seen so many boobs, butts and erm… ‘All-baring&lrquo; in all my life. If it’s not out on show, it’s insinuated. Photographic images of a baby entering the world left me shaking in fear and have put me off all notions of motherhood. I grew up on a farm, watching cows pop out offspring the size of small elephants – yes, I know it’s a blood bath. I guess I just never put myself in the equation. A pet puppy is looking like a much better idea…
If you haven’t been to the art fair, go next year – there’s no better place to people watch. You can also plan your future art collection; when I finally win the lottery I’ll be set. Now all I have to do is decide on a place for the birth piece… above my bed would provide a lovely conversation starter. If nothing else, it’d be the best contraception device in history. One look at that horror scene each night and I’d be put off lovin’ for life.
That’s my week in a nutshell…
Now, the most pressing dilemma of the day is what to wear to my Halloween party on Friday. If the past seven days are anything to go by, I think Burlesque is the answer.
Get it out this week – it’s obviously “all the rage daaaarling!”.
