Went to see the premier of the Mincemeat Follies last night at the Richmond Crematorium. The dreaded Lux hosted the event–by hosted I mean he delivered an almost senseless series of absurd pineapple jokes, interspersed with expletives.The crowd, of course, ate it up. I immediately regretted purchasing seats so close to the front of the stage when I saw the ornate, decadently engraved, auto-fellating podium Lux was standing behind. He got sucked off by the whirring little metal orifice while simultaneously railing against the fucking Fruit Cabal.

Most of the performances were tepid little song-and-dance numbers celebrating male potency. Nothing I haven’t seen before, but because of my recent diagnosis, I did become a wee bit teary and lachrymose after the number about the little orphan girl who finally got the golden slippers she always wanted, but couldn’t get them to stay on her rotten, gangrenous feet. Shucks. No-one is so hard-hearted as to not be moved by that! During the last number, the 10-piece orchestra burst into flames, but the audience was too deliriously moved to help. The emergency sprinklers came on, which did the trick, and the surviving seven members were able to be escorted out on stretchers for the final curtain call. I slipped out then, a wadded hanky against my mouth to suppress my sobs.