Movin' Out - the Billy Joel musical

L'il Garders shows the way to go

It all seemed so simple. It's Daniel's birthday. He likes Billy Joel. There's a new Billy Joel musical in town, featuring 24 (count 'em!) of his biggest hits. Let's book the tickets right here! Surely it'll be just like Mamma Mia or We Will Rock You - a romp through all your favourite classic hits, with some "plot" loosely linking them together, right?

Wrong. A few days later, Beccy, who knows about these things, says "you do know who Twyla Tharp is, don't you? This will be Billy Joel expressed through the medium of contemporary dance." And with that, our faces fell, and we saw the price of a dozen lagers wandering off into the pockets of Ticketmaster.


The birthday boy looks forward excitedly to the show in The Cardinal, Victoria

And so, last Thursday, we were at the Apollo Victoria for Movin' Out. And it's difficult to know where to start. The last time I saw anything like this, it was at the University of Essex theatre. And for every moment where it felt like a pretentious piece of student angst, there was one where it felt like we were on a cruise ship watching the Ents team putting together a "Seaside Special" review. Add in some U-S-A, U-S-A flag-waving, and you get the picture.

I'll confess to owning a Billy Joel Greatest Hits compilation (though it does have a "not for re-sale" sticker still on it) but the even the piano man's best work can't save this, as any subtlety gets lost in the bombastic arrangements. And this is before I've even got on to the bizarre S&M bondage scene somewhere in the middle where a Mother and young son walked out...

The audience - if not our group - were divided. The people behind us whooped and hollared for more - and probably hated the row of cynical meejah hacks in front of them who made sarcastic comments throughout and burst out laughing at several points. Some walked out at the interval; we went back for more - perhaps just to check we had actually seen in the first half what we thought we had.

For Joel fans, just getting drunk and dancing around the front room to Greatest Hits will provide a better experience. Maybe this was all just too American for the English palate: the campaign for a UK singer-songwriter show "Up The Junction - The Squeeze Musical" starts today...


TCMJ and Beccy recreate some of the moves from the show

For goodness' sakes

(Which I believe is the correct grammar. But I may be wrong.)

do I have to do it all myself?

Here is a story about a man at work - which I'm now wary of mentioning thanks to the email below. Let's just say it could be any man at any work. But it wasn't it was a man at my work.

He is around 55-ish, and the putative boss. not my boss, but the boss of a few people in the "deskspace" area close to me.

The other day he rather loudly asked anyone listening if they'd read the lyrics to Fitter, Happier off Radiohead's OK Computer album. No one answered, so he said "They go like this..."

and proceeded to read them off his computer screen. Most people know this as a short track. Not when its being read in its entirety to an otherwise silent room, who don't want to hear it. Shall we remind ourselves...?

"Fitter, happier, more productive,
comfortable,
not drinking too much,
regular exercise at the gym
(3 days a week),
getting on better with your associate employee contemporaries ,
at ease,
eating well
(no more microwave dinners and saturated fats),
a patient better driver,
a safer car
(baby smiling in back seat),
sleeping well
(no bad dreams),
no paranoia,
careful to all animals
(never washing spiders down the plughole),
keep in contact with old friends
(enjoy a drink now and then),
will frequently check credit at
(moral) bank (hole in the wall),
favors for favors,
fond but not in love,
charity standing orders,
on Sundays ring road supermarket
(no killing moths or putting boiling water on the ants),
car wash
(also on Sundays),
no longer afraid of the dark or midday shadows
nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate,
nothing so childish - at a better pace,
slower and more calculated,
no chance of escape,
now self-employed,
concerned (but powerless),
an empowered and informed member of society
(pragmatism not idealism),
will not cry in public,
less chance of illness,
tires that grip in the wet
(shot of baby strapped in back seat),
a good memory,
still cries at a good film,
still kisses with saliva,
no longer empty and frantic
like a cat
tied to a stick,
that's driven into
frozen winter shit
(the ability to laugh at needless harm),
calm,
fitter,
healthier and more productive
A Pig
In a cage
On antibiotics."

At first people started to laugh, then say, uncomfortably, "Er, not familiar with that one." and towards the end, very pissed off... "Oh shut up, will you"

He read it through, loudly, to the end, before continuing... "It's the first track on the second side of the album. I usually skip through it when I listen to it, but it's brilliant for decorating."

After a brief pause he said: "Wordsworth. If Wordsworth were alive today he'd be writing stuff like that. It's genius."

Very weird.

I don't actually have anything interesting to post

but given no one's contributed for two weeks now, I feel I ought to put something up to stop the blog dying of apathy.

By the way, I'm very proud of that headline. It could be the default headline for every blog post ever generated, and in most cases, wouldn't need to be changed.

We got a very strange email the other day from someone at work. A boss. This is what it said:

"Hello there…

Do you blog or talk about your life on 'my space' ?

Here is some important information for you, please read, and if in any doubt ask myself or xxxx.

When a blogger clearly identifies themselves as a xxxxxx person and/or discusses their work, xxxxxx expects them to behave well when blogging, and in ways that are consistent with xxxxxx's xxxxxx policies.

If your blog makes it clear that you work for the xxxxxx, it should include a simple and visible disclaimer such as 'these are my personal views and not those of xxxxxx'.

Many bloggers, particularly in xxxxxx areas, use their personal blogs to discuss their xxxxxx work in ways that benefit xxxxxx , and add to the 'industry conversation'. These guidelines are not intended to restrict this, as long as confidential information is not revealed.

If you already have a personal blog or website which indicates in any way that you work at xxxxxx you should tell your manager.

If you want to start blogging, and your blog/website will say that you work for xxxxxx you should tell your manager.

Unless there are specific concerns about the nature of your job, you are free to talk about xxxxxx on your blog. Consult your manager if in any doubt.

Don't reveal confidential information. This might include aspects of xxxxxx policy or details of internal xxxxxx discussions. Again, consult your manager if you are unclear about what might be confidential.

You should not use your blogs to attack or abuse colleagues. You should respect the privacy and the feelings of others. Remember that if you break the law on your blog (for example by posting something defamatory), you will be personally responsible.

If you think something on your blog or website gives rise to concerns about a conflict of interest and in particular concerns about impartiality or confidentiality this must be discussed with your manager.

If someone from the media or press contacts you about posts on your blog that relate to xxxxxx you should talk to your manager before responding. The relevant xxxxxx press office must be consulted.

You are allowed to update your personal blog from a xxxxxx computer at work, under xxxxxx's Acceptable Use Policy."

Bearing in mind the paragraph I have highlighted, I thought I need to cover myself here as I may have insinuated once or twice that I work at xxxxxx. So I told my boss I contribute to this blog and the world famous Will's Pub Guide.

He pronounced himself "not too worried". Not too worried!? I suppose it's bettwe than "not remotely worried", but, really...

For the record, I, too, am "not too worried". Paranoid, nuts, drunk, scabrous and vaguely ticklish, but not too worried.

I really can't be bothered any more.