Oi! Wankers! Yank your gobs off each others phalluses, it’s time for the weekly “Why I Hate  All and Want You to Choke on Your Smug Self-Indulgence” AKA: actually, that’s just pretty much what we all call it now.

What’s on the slab today? Well, first up I can finally stop talking about Foiled Brunt of the Dumb, as by the time you read this it should be mostly through. Apparently it was quite good, so all the best for getting drunk at the afterparty and forgetting that nobody cares.

Did anyone see Silence, sorry, S1L3NC3 last week? Boy oh boy, was it twisted as anything, there was one point where he, like, totally dropped some pennies! I was just sad he wouldn’t let me help him with any of the self-harm tricks. I was a totally willing volunteer to help him harm himself. In all fairness, there was one lovely trick where he swallowed a live hamster and, after it had chewed through his stomach, it burst out wearing a little party hat – it was adorable!
Apparently The Dream Play is having trouble squeezing money out of OUDS. I can think of someone else in that position. A little someone by the name of absolutely everybody. Must be tough for them, though, enough man power to build the Titanic, but no money to buy ice. Seriously, guys, you must have over 50 people involved, I’m going to have to make a manpower sex joke soon, and none of us want that.

Hold on, I smell fear. Freshers? Here? Ridiculous. No fresher’s going to read the hateful screen-chewings of a mescaline-addled ex-thesp, unless… Oh course! Cuppers is coming! And the NWF, I suppose, but there won’t be as much supple young flesh in that, probably more supple young… paper? Memory Sticks? Keyboards? What do you young people use to write plays these days? Whatever.

Ok kids. First rule of Cuppers:  do not talk about cuppers. Seriously, just keep that stuff to yourself: it’s a bad idea, poorly executed, with atrocious acting and the less I know, the happier you’ll be. Trust me.

The second rule of Cuppers: don’t piss yourself. It may seem like a good idea when you’re on stage under the hawk-like gaze of the judges but… ah, who am I kidding? Knock yourself out. Piss like a king, I guarantee they’ll have seen worse that day.
Jonny Sims

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