Showing posts with label eliza rose harper. Show all posts

Everyone's a Comedian

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Last month I made my stand-up comedy debut. As you do.

On arriving in London last April I set myself the challenge of doing stand-up before Christmas. 17th January? Close enough. But why would I do this? Well, funny you should ask.

Growing up the little sister of my two brothers, and with a mother who is quite the kitchen table joker, my wit muscle was exercised from an early age. Since childhood, humour has most definitely been a tool for me – as a mechanism of defense, particularly when I’m nervous, it's also great for connecting with people. But rarely, if ever, do I set out to make people laugh, it just kind of happens, and I often shock myself.

I was always interested in performance, but as I grew older I found the world of acting to be too fake – both on and off stage – and that just wasn't me. I had never considered stand-up comedy as a career option (or any option for that matter), and so I pursued the public service as my profession.

Over the past decade I have found myself drawn more and more to comedy as an outlet, with the rise of the podcast it has grown into a passion, and may be nearing obsession. I’m a big fan if Wil Anderson – more so for his podcast, TOFOP/FOFOP, than his stand-up or variations of Gruen. A big reason for this is that, in his podcasts, he is so genuine and inquisitive, and that he’s able to both open my mind about life and makes me laugh is no mean feat.

Everyone's a Comedian: Wil Anderson

As Wil says, comedians are modern day philosophers, and I agree – well, the good ones, anyway. In a nutshell they stand up and point out all the not-so-great things in the world but do so with laughter, not put us in a state of fear, which seems to be the modus operandi of the mainstream media.

Russell Brand is another favourite of mine who does this. Perhaps he’s a bit much for some, but I think what the likes of Wil and Russ are doing is genius. Their use of humour, which is so disarming, to make as laugh at ourselves and the systems we all subscribe to while expanding our perspectives is pretty clever in my book.

This all got me thinking about voicing my own views of the world, though not in a way that was serious and self-righteous – people don't respond well to that, but they do respond to humour. I pondered that idea for a good few years, then late 2013 I signed up to an eight week stand-up course with London’s Hoopla.

Nervous at first, the course turned out to be my weekly release during what became a very stressful time. Each week the class had to prepare about three minutes of material, which would culminate into a ‘best of’ set to be showcased at The Miller, an extremely popular pub and performance venue in central London. No pressure!

Everyone's a Comedian: Wil Anderson

So each week I got up and voiced the things that were puzzling me, doing so with a humorous spin, without the limitations of political correctness, only to have people laugh along in agreement. What’s not to love about that? As well as that, the course covered various improv games and exercises to get those funny bones firing.

I was most surprised by the fact that material is so readily available – basically, it’s those thoughts we all have on a daily basis but wouldn’t dare dream of saying out loud. Stand-up comedy affords you that dream. And it can be incredibly cathartic as each giggle indicates a person or people who shares in your thoughts or opinions.

Midway through the course a group of my fellow budding comedians and I went to an open mic night – just to watch. Our teacher, Max Dickins, himself a comedian, taught us that watching others trying to be funny will help us realise how good we actually are. He’s right, so very right. We suffered through seventeen acts, all of which had something in common – they were trying to be funny, using multiple one-liners without any flow, but weren’t actually funny. They didn’t share anecdotes or air frustrations, which we had by now learned is what an audience responds to and connects with. The best advice Max gave me was that the audience wants to like you, so let them.

Soon enough, showcase night came around, with thirteen of us making our stand-up debut.

Max, who was also our emcee for the evening, had guided us through the course like a fairy godmother, and reassured us that we were there to have fun. A fellow deputing comedian pointed out that all of our friends were coming to see us for the first time, that they were going to be at their most supportive, and that we were never going to get a room full of this much support ever again. Slightly bummed that she was probably right, it gave me a great deal of comfort in that moment, and in that moment I needed it – I was second on the line up!

The room was so full that we had to give up our seats. Whilst this was a little intimidating, the more people in the room the greater the probability that at least some would find us amusing. The first debutant was brilliant. As I said to her dad afterwards, I could not have picked a better support act (thanks Alice). She set the standard for the evening and that standard was high. Then her five minutes were up and I was on.

Everyone's a Comedian

The most brilliant thing about the venue was that you could see no further than the front row, so from the stage I was staring into a humming darkness, waiting for my first laugh. And when it comes from the crowd it’s like a wave of calm rolling over you, and it’s amazing – I’ve got this.

I’m not going to go into the details of my set, or anyone else’s for that matter – I couldn’t do them justice in writing. All I will say is that everyone did a great job, and I am so proud of each of us for doing what most people would regard as their biggest fear. I have been to professional comedy gigs where by the end of the night the energy in the room is very low, but not this night. I was honestly amazed by the standard – I think even our fairy godmother was surprised!

The highlight of the evening was actually on the way out, when I overheard someone saying that they really liked ‘that girl on second’. This experience has left me firmly with the view that anyone can be a comic, as long as you are genuine to your own voice and are prepared to fail.

This is a class where, in that room, you forget about all the crap around you that’s getting you down and have a laugh at it instead. So much did I enjoy it that I’m going back for level two!

Everyone's a Comedian: Russell Brand

Max Dickins will be previewing his Edinburgh Comedy Festival show on 23 February in Camden, check out his website for more information. You can also enjoy his shenanigans on his highly acclaimed podcast Dregs.

The next stand up course for Hoopla starts on 24 March or you may also be interested in their improv classes, check their website for details.

Wil Anderson is also on touring various places and shouldn't be missed at this year's Melbourne International Comedy Festival (my face may even be on the poster). For tickets to his MICF show see Ticketmaster. Or you might want to listen to his award winning comedy podcast, TOFOP/FOFOP.

My new addiction is Wil's new podcast Wilosophy, which, while not necessarily funny, is a good listen. The latest episode has Australian muso Ben Lee and is fascinating. If you're a fan of the Gruens you must listen to the first episode.
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What They Don't Tell You About Living in London

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A lot of friends and family contact me saying they are living vicariously through my London adventures, particularly through my Facebook updates. Thing is, Facebook is a carefully edited medium which affords us an easy way to project how awesome we are, whilst we hide those not so fabulous aspects of our lives.
 
In the wise words of Sir Laurence Street (former Chief Justice of the NSW Supreme Court) from my days at law school - there are always two sides to the coin. For the record, Sir Street's was a 50 cent piece and at 80+ he flirted like he was Gosling with us 20-somethings.

I love you dearly and thank you for your support, but I say to you this – put down your smart phone and book yourself...wait, don't put the phone down...book yourself a ticket to that place you've always wanted to go…and then put the phone down. That's exactly what I did and is how I ended up here.

What they don't tell you about living in London

As I approach the nine month mark of life in London, something has also gestated - an inner rage. Before I go on, I do love my life in London and the happy times I promote (via Facebook), which certainly outweigh the frustratingly, annoying, inefficient, extortionate times. But they’re there, and daily I find myself in situations where I want to scream what the actual fuck?! Somedays I do...in public...mostly at rail employees. And I use the term ‘employee’ loosely as it implies that they do something productive and as it stands I am not convinced.

It is never far from my mind that I am one of hundreds of thousands of Aussies who have taken this right of passage to the UK, but at 32 I seem to be a late bloomer. I am beginning to wonder whether my age is impacting on my experience. Having been around the block a few more times than my younger antipodeans, it really grates me when I see things that are over complicated, inefficient and expensive and I know they don't have to be. So indulge me here and allow me to vent a few things that shit me to tears (bearing in mind this list is by no means exhaustive), and what no one warned me about London. 


Passiveness


People are passive, not necessarily aggressively, but I often experience resistance to engagement, initiative or responsibility.  I work within the public sector and not surprisingly I see these things a lot at work, but this most prevalent on public transport. Catching the train/tube during peak hour is best described as ‘intimate’. People seem to have a preference for being squashed together in the vestibule rather than move inside the carriage!

When this Aussie attempts to get on and politely requests my co-commuters to utilise that space behind them I receive looks like I've just asked them to insert a toilet brush somewhere unmentionable, brush head first. I did once get a verbal response; ‘there's no room’. ‘There right behind you oh wait here where I am now standing’, having pushed past her not so delicately. It really doesn't make for the best start to the day.


TV Licences 


I'm not going to bang on about this one too much because it blows my mind. Instead I want to skim over this to keep my levels of irritability down as I'm only at number 2.

In a nutshell there is no free to air television channels in the UK like there are in Australia. Instead you have to pay a licence fee of £145.50 (cheaper for black and white) each year. Apparently the fee funds the BBC.  For numerous reasons, which I won't go into here, I find this hard to swallow but I think I should point out that the BBC is a globally recognised brand and I suspect it's doing alright for itself. Incidental to my research I found reading that website amusing because I never knew there was so many ways to say ‘you're being ripped off!’


Public Transport


Original image by Arjen Stilklik via Flickr
A lot of people bang on about how great the transport links are in London. Hey, even I did at first. But there is nothing that wears me down more than the daily commute, and where I can, I walk. I shouldn't really call it public because the national rail service, which connects London with the surrounding home counties (one being Surrey where I currently reside) is run by several private operators. In my experience they couldn't care less or charge more, but then again prices have just increased.

I just paid £255 (around $460 AU) for a monthly ticket for a journey the equivalent of living in the outer western suburbs of Sydney. I wouldn't mind paying so much if it was a good service (I refer you to my Zurich piece), but it not. It's like waiting for that friend who doesn't give a crap about time and is either late or cancels last minute. This happens so often that train boards have the scheduled time and expected time. Sometimes they match, but it’s so rare it feels like you’ve won some kind of lottery when it does happen.

When in London, buses are my preferred mode of transport as they are cheaper and tend to be more reliable. But, is it really reasonable to assume that the destination you read on the front of the bus is ultimately where it will end up? Apparently not. ‘This bus is on diversion. Please wait for further announcements,’ has caught me a few times, usually in the post-midnight hours. It means that the bus will not be finishing the route and you need to get off at the next stop and wait for the next bus to come along, which doesn't always eventuate.


Wages Versus Cost of Living


I am lucky to be earning around what I was in Sydney, and I know how fortunate that makes me. Most people I know earn less than the equivalent to $50k (AU), which may sound okay but the basic costs of living London are expensive. A habit I am finding hard to let go of, but know I must, is converting prices of things into Aussie dollars. It's hard not to get annoyed when the shampoo I use here is £17 (I have a sensitive scalp) and would be $17 in Australia. This has made me realise how ridiculous the concept of money really is.


The Weather


Actually, no, I’m not going to bitch and moan about the weather. Not only because I can't say I wasn’t warned, but because I actually love the cold. In fact, I could whinge that it's not cold enough, but I'll let that go for now as apparently it's been unseasonably warm this year. Either that or it’s my piping hot temper that's taken the edge off.

What they don't tell you about living in London
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Year in Review: What You Missed on Hopscotch Friday

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Well it's not quite a year in review, as we've only really been around for four months, but for those four months we've enjoyed your company and support. So, thank you for that, we greatly appreciate it and hope to see you continue on the journey with us into 2014.

There's loads to come, with some new features and regular columns from our wonderful contributors. But for now, here's the top posts from 2013 for you to read as you nurse tomorrow's hangover.

People In Your Neighbourhood: Peter Neill


Year in Review - Top Posts - Peter Neill - Music Photographer
Coldplay by Peter Neill
In our second People In Your Neighbourhood feature I spoke with Peter Neill, wedding photographer turned concert photographer, who happens to also be a genuine and down to earth bloke who hasn't yet let hanging out with the likes of U2 and Justin Timberlake go to his head.

Read about Peter here.

The Time of the Doctor: The Long Con


Year in Review - Top Posts - The Time of The Doctor Review
http://www.bbcamerica.com/doctor-who/photos/time-doctor-sneak-peek
Emmet reviewed the Doctor Who Christmas special, the Time of the Doctor arguing that the resultant bellyaching from fans and critics was unjustified. Instead Emmet suggests that this, Matt Smith's swansong, was presented just as it should have been, remembering, of course, that regeneration came about to provide the successful show with longevity beyond the retirement of the original Doctor, William Hartnell. Nothing more, nothing less.

Read Emmet's review of Time of the Doctor here.

Get Your Kinky On


Year in Review - Top Posts - Still Kinky - Sex Party

I'm wondering if this says more about you than it does us! Eliza's musings on sex with people watching and dancing like nobody is struck a nerve or peaked the curiosities of many. She's a straight shooter, but still showed us her vulnerability at this new experience, which I think many found to be both familiar and refreshing.

You can read Eliza's thoughts on the experience here, and in part two, here.

Totally Rad Adventure


Year in Review - Top Posts - Totally Rad Adventure - Space Pyrates to SPX

Giving a platform to an amazing comic creator has been a real pleasure for Hopscotch Friday, and Caitlin's detailing of her trip to the Small Press Expo (SPX) in comic form has proved that you like it too. Caitlin's comic proves that even in drawn form, sometimes reality is funnier than fiction.

Caitlin's SPX adventure in four parts can be found here, here, here and here.

See you in 2014!


That's a wrap for 2013! We want to thank you, our readers, for your ongoing support and hope to see you continuing the adventure with us in the New Year.

I'd also personally like to thank all of Hopscotch Friday's contributors. This blog would just be boring old me if it wasn't for the effort you put in out of the goodness of your own hearts and in pursuit of your passions. For your contributions I am thankful, but so too am I grateful for the opportunity to share your talents with the blogosphere.

Don't forget you can join the conversation via Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Instagram or Pinterest.

-Stevie O'C
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Still Kinky

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You have been warned - this story is about going to a kinky sex party and contains swears. If you think this will make you want to send us angry emails then best you not continue and read this, this, or this instead.

Missed Part I? Read it here first.

We do a quick change in the unisex toilets, which consist of one cubical and three urinals (are you for reals?!). We swap suits and adorn them with [insert name of pharma-cum-beauty retailer who we really, really hope does not sell products that are tested on animals] logos, and accessorise with bunny ears and noses.  A dude wearing green trousers and applying orange body paint to his top half turns and says ‘I don’t get it’ in a voice that sounds like he’s borrowed it from a hipster. Yeah, well, right back at ya buddy!

Entourage: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0387199/
Once inside the actual party it is immediately apparent that there is nothing to worry about. The place is packed, but the vibe is good. To give you some kind of visual context, imagine what it might be like if you were in a room with all of Lady Gaga’s friends, all in full costume…but they're nice.  Everyone has dressed up. There's lots of silver, and lab coats over suspenders, and there is a widespread Breaking Bad influence. But given I’m extremely paranoid about appearing as a voyeur I do my best not to look at anything, let alone anyone, for too long.

We lost No.2 during the change and DJ Tyler Durden needs to do his networking thing, so I head to the bar. I wait patiently, but some guy in a dentist jacket pushes in. ‘Dude I’m a giant friggin bunny, don’t play the ‘oh I didn’t see you there’ card’, I want to say, but before I can get my defensive bitch on, I am fortunately (or unfortunately as it turns out) interrupted by a stranger in a space suit.

‘So you’re an experimental bunny?’ raising an eyebrow.
‘Indeed I am’. Fuck! Why is flirting my nervous default position?
‘And does bunny like to experiment?’ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck-ety! Fuck! Why didn’t I go to that fucking consent workshop! How the heck do I say no?

It’s obvious that I’m still a bit apprehensive. If I was anywhere else I would tell him to piss off but because this place has such an emphasis on consent, I feel obliged to be respectful in my rejection…you know like we all should, really, always.

‘Ummmm, bunny likes a scratch’ I said as I scratched my left shoulder awkwardly with my left hand. It’s the best I could come up with on such short notice. The onesie was itchy, but more importantly why was bunny talking in the third person all of a sudden? Thankfully I spot my bunny-in-crime nearby and hop in his general direction. He has witnessed the awkward exchange at the bar and we decide that if asked again, we’re going to say that we’re plushies (Google it, or don’t), and hope that works as a decoy.   

Bunny onesies for kinky dance party

At 11pm the cabaret begins featuring a cheeky compere, a lesbian comedian (literally all her jokes were about her being a lesbian, all of them) and a lizard inspired burlesque dancer. The removal of her g-banger is apparently the cue that the Playroom is open for business. Ever been out somewhere that there’s a couple in the corner getting it on and you just want to yell ‘get a room’? Well this place has one.

We head outside for air - the onesies are hot! When we return. the dance floor that was packed to the rafters minutes before is now half empty. Ah. The Playroom. We have a dance, but the music is not really grabbing us. And with that our night becomes a pattern of outside, bar, give the dance floor a go, rewind, and restart.

Each time we walk outside we pass the thick black curtain that cordons off the Playroom the heat emanating from it seems to intensify. There is a woman outside who I would conservatively estimate is a size 20. She’s wearing a leather skirt. I’ll repeat; she’s wearing a leather skirt (nothing else). It’s held up by a clasp looped around her neck and is carrying a taxidermy tool. Instantly taking a liking to my rabbit self, she clips her tool into the zip of my onesie and draws down. ‘Yeah that’ll do’ I say when she gets to around my belly button, not because I think I’m about to become her stuffed bunny fantasy, but because I’m actually wearing the least sexy underwear I own and this is really not the place for me to be flashing my sensibles. 

Back inside, the dance floor continues to be empty, which is disappointing for those that actually want to dance…vertically, or those who are out of options on their horizontal dance card. Thank gawd when 2:30am rolls around and I can finally get my proper dance on. Unfortunately this means I have lost my dancing partner to the decks and as No.2 hates drum and base I regularly lose him to nicotine.  Fuck it! I dance my tail off…literally, as the safety pin that is holding my tail together gives way.

Throughout all this, I realised a few things about myself. First, I am really not bothered by people having their tits or bits out. In fact, I hardly noticed it and despite the initial self induced awkwardness, I didn’t experience the where do I look dilemma. Brilliant! A sign I’ve matured. Second, I can’t help but think ‘does having sex really require this much effort? Is it so lame playing at home with your partner that you need this whole shin dig with 300 other people? And if you don’t have a partner, is it that hard to pull?’ That said, I don’t think that’s actually the point here.

Perhaps it’s my age,  perhaps it’s my Virgo rising, but when it comes to bumping uglies I adopt the ‘fresh is best' policy and I can’t think of a better mood killer than a pre-heated post-coital cushion, that is still warm from someone else’s (and then some) body. I am also most definitely a monogamist, and I don’t like to share. Thankfully neither does DJ Tyler Durden. He’s an only child.

While there is sexual mayhem happening all around, neither of us feels the need to mack on in the middle of the dance floor, nor do we need to explore whether we are actually plushies after all. I did however, feel we connected on level that is beyond anything physical, sexual or even emotional. That night it became very apparent that we share a simple and unspoken connection, that we’re very much on the same page, we can communicate with just a look, and have a lot of fun with each other, in whatever form that may look like. And that, ladies and gentlemen, I have on good authority, is way more wicked than being tied up, smacked, poked, stroked or wheelbarrowed (Google it, or don’t, but if you do, in your own time and not at work) in public.                      

Having said all that, I also get it. Totally. It’s not that I lack sexual desires or fantasies, it’s just I don’t need to explore it in that forum…well not at this point in time anyway. Just because it’s not my thing, does not mean it is not someone else’s. It’s an exhibitionist’s dream, and it is obviously very liberating. Some people just like to dance around naked and this setting gives them the ability to do that without the threat of being groped or worse.

In a world where no is too easily ignored, and attitudes of she was asking for it are apparently the norm, this experience was extremely refreshing and precious.  What I loved most was how safe I felt in an environment where anything goes. It does not matter your size, your age (as long as you’re over 18), your preference, fetish or fantasy. The freedom to express yourself is celebrated, without the fear of judgment or the menacing presence of predatory creeps. It also highlights for me how mainstream media distorts the characteristics of sexual expression. I cringe to think that there are men and women alike that have modeled their own explorations after Samantha Jones's. And no, it wasn’t a room of Christian Grey’s either.     

All of that said, I’m not going to lie, this was the first time I had heard DJ Tyler Durden deejay live, having missed him over the festival season, so experiencing him create something I was really enjoying had me, funnily enough, wanting to go for it, as they say, like rabbits. But in the moment I was also really enjoying being in my own little dance world and feeling the freedom to dance as if no one was watching. Bliss. We could save the rest for when we got home.

So will I go to the next one? Well Mum, the jury is still out but I would certainly encourage others to go because it is an unforgettable experience, and hey I didn’t even have any sexy time! And that’s the key, neither do you. But if you’re going to head along to a kinky party, here are my tips for not just surviving, but having a great time:

* Keep your mind open.
* Know that opening your mind does not mean you need to open your legs. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.
* Get into the spirit. Dressing up can really help you get out of your own head; it shakes things up and helps you get into the groove with everyone else. 
* Don’t get too intoxicated, that’s no fun for anybody. 
* Take someone you trust with you.
* Remember to laugh and just have fun.
* Don’t be shy, talk to people, they won’t bite – unless, of course, you want them to. 
* Know your boundaries and respect those of others.
* Basically, follow the fucking rules!



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Get Your Kinky On

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Note: This is the first of two posts in which Eliza talks about her trip to a kinky party. If it's likely to offend you (it's really not offensive - it's about her, not the sex) then I'd encourage you to watch Tom Hiddleston teaching the Cookie Monster about delayed gratification instead.

Writing this is a challenge.

Not because I am a prude, you will imminently understand why I say that, but mainly because my Mum will read this. And she is likely to ask a lot of questions. Probably, ‘when’s the next one?’ My Dad has already seen a photo of my bunny costume and asked what it was all about. Well Daddy Dearest, I went an arty-farty sex party (whoop there it is!), dressed as a lab test bunny. A costume choice I would come to realise was a rookie mistake.

The problem with writing this is that I’m not actually allowed to write about the event itself. I can’t name names or detail the ins and outs (‘scuse the pun) of what goes on there. It the sex version of Fight Club in that regard, but basically it was part fancy dress party. Part dance party, part cabaret, part let’s all live out our sexual fantasies…together. And because we can’t talk about Fight Club, the names in this story have been changed to protect the guilty.

Shortbus kinky sex party

I’d hung out with fetish folk back in the early naughties, I mean noughties, as a couple my close friends were professional dominatrices (insert whip cracking sound effect here). But this party was very different to other fetish/kink events I’d attended, mainly in that its numbers were restricted and it was significantly less pretentious. Even so, I was apprehensive and, although I regard myself as pretty comfortable with my own and anyone else’s sexuality (Tony Abbott was obviously never a theatre student like me), it had been a while since I’d been around the scene. I was now on the other side of the world and in a relatively new relationship, not knowing what to expect or, more importantly, what was expected from me.

Fortunately, I live in a house with someone who has been to these events before (we’ll here on refer to him as No.2), and who described the playroom (I’ll come back to this) as no less than ‘fucking terrifying’. Helpful.

First things first, and that’s being approved to enter, which involves submitting a photo and identifying who your buddy is (again, more on this to come). Then the day before the event you receive a you’re in email. When I got mine I was struck by all the rules. I don’t usually like rules. I don’t like being told what to do (a symptom of youngest-child-syndrome, not to be confused with bedroom domination, no no, I’m definitely…I digress), so my initial reaction was one of resistance.

The Rules


Things you can do: Dress up! Contribute where you can. Know your boundaries and state them. Play consensually and safely. Practice safe sex.  Respect the space and others. Clean up after yourself.

And the don’ts: Linger unaccompanied in the play spaces. Cruise aggressively. Get too intoxicated. Photograph. Gossip about goings on.

Shortbus kink sex party

Everyone has to have a buddy. Your buddy must be someone that you know and trust, they can be the same or opposite gender, or even a couple. You are responsible for your buddy’s behavior and they are responsible for yours. If either of you violate the rules you will both be held responsible. You must arrive together and it’s recommended that you also leave together.

If you haven’t arrived by 10pm you won’t be let in. There’s a consent workshop from 9pm, specifically aimed at first timers, like me.

Honestly, these rules seemed so straight forward, and based on common sense, that I didn’t really understand the need for them. So at a-rosé-past-a-cosmo-o’clock when I rocked up at home having stewed on this all day, I raised it with No.2, and it went something like this:

Me: What’s with all the rules? You only need rules like that if there are a lot of wankers.
No.2: *giggles*
Me: And I’m not going to that bloody consent workshop! Why do I need to go to a consent workshop?! Just don’t fucking touch me and we’ll all be fine.
No.2: *laughs* You sound like me.
Me: Yes, but you can also be a bit desperate.
No.2: It’s basically to teach you that it’s okay to say no.
Me: Oh.
No.2: Do you need a spliff?

Beyond that point I don’t remember the specifics of the discussion, but my apprehension dissipated and No.2 actually managed to make it sound like it could be fun.

‘If you want to go into the playroom you can, otherwise the party continues like any other party’, or something to that effect. He had a vested interest me going along, as he needed me as his wingman while his best mate, DJ Tyler Durden was on the decks. Retrospectively, I can’t emphasise the word needed enough, and believe the phrase couldn’t organize a root in a brothel was coined off the back of No.2, bless him.

Rule Number 1: The Costume


The theme was science, or something like that. DJ Tyler Durden and I decided we would go as lab test bunnies. Bunnies are cute and subject to scientific testing, which met the theme. More importantly, onesies are all the rage and therefore both cheap and easily available. It also meant I could get away with wearing a flesh baring outfit. Win!

Off we headed to Primarni (Primark – Supre on steroids). According to the coat hangers they only had one size left – large. Perfect for my six foot two beau and my size 14-ish hips. The lines to the change room were long, so behind a pillar in Men’s Shoes we tried on the onesies, over our clothes mind you. DJ Tyler Durden’s seemed to fit him, while mine was a bit snug, but I figured it would loosen up once I had not much else underneath.

As we were getting ready to go, I was pleasantly surprised that without my tights and skirt my onesie was baggie, very baggie. DJ Tyler Durden’s, on the other hand, was not so. His was tight! With only his board shorts on underneath, he stretched it under his long limbs, zipped it up in front and created an attractive camel toe effect that would make Miley Cyrus blush. Fortunately, the weather had turned so we donned long coats over the top for the 30 minute journey on the over-ground train.

The venue is tucked away on a London back street. At 9.45 we joined the long line of corseted and PVC-clad kinksters and awaited the obligatory pre-entry briefing.

The tightness of DJ Tyler Durden’s suit continued to bother him, concerned that it wasn’t up for a night of partying or, more importantly, that it might be too restrictive for him to get through his hour-and-a-half set. In the comfort of my roomy onesie, as the thought came to my mind that we might not have bought the same size, it also came out of my mouth. Panic struck his face, ‘check the tag’ he demanded. I obliged, gasped and shrieked with hysterical laughter. My broad shouldered, tall and reasonably well built man was wearing and XS women’s onesie!

‘We’re changing. I’m putting my foot down on this one’. He obviously wasn’t enjoying this as much as I was. Well, at least for the rest of the night we could both say this wasn’t the costume we’d showed up in. That’d certainly have impressed the crowd.

In Part II I’ll take you behind the closed doors to discover what happens, and more importantly, what doesn’t, at a sex party.

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Music Festival Season: DJ B-Fly's Top Five

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Following on from last week’s Lessons from the UK, I talked to DJ B-Fly about his epic festival adventures over the British summer.

But first, who is this DJ B-Fly? With over 15 years in the game, B-fly has deejayed at festivals, clubs and parties across the UK, Europe as well touring to New York. He currently holds a residency at one of London's best known underground raves, Planet Angel and has been hand-picked by Allowance Records. Over the years B-Fly has been on the lookout for new and exciting sounds. From the early days of big beat to ghetto funk and electric swing. His dynamic and evolving style ensures fun music for good times and dancing.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals
Photo by James Murton

Euro Bugin, Chimey, Belgium


First stop on DJ B-Fly’s 2013 festival circuit was Euro Bugin. Held in the brewery town of Chimey – you know, the Trappist beer – Euro Bugin is the largest Volkswagen festival in Europe. Yes, there's more than one and this is the biggest.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals Euro Bugin Volkswagen festival

The two roads into town were closed during the festival to make way for a drag strip, which is bordered by an off-road track and a burn out area specially reserved for tyre shredding. By day the punters explored the fields (and fields) packed with all varieties of VWs, the prestigious ‘show and shine’ display, and pit lane where teams of engineers work on their race cars before launching them on the strip. Alternatively, there was the option to simply chill out and relax by their tents or kombis, drinking beer, and regaling impressive VW experiences. By night it was live acts and DJs.

The sound of tyres squealing and revving engines was constant; however it was muffled by the non-stop rain, day and night, on the Friday. A flooded strip put the drag racers into park, but one man’s demise is another’s delight as the rain made for perfect conditions over on the off-road track. And of course, it makes for great chilling and drinking weather.

DJ B-Fly’s highlight – deejaying to a crowd of around 1,000 from the inside of a VW campervan on stage, quite literally bounding around due to the van’s suspension, or lack thereof!


Chilled in a Field, Kent


Chilled in Field, or simply Chilled, is run by the people behind London’s longest running club night events, Planet Angel. Planet Angel aims to bring creativity, colour and fun to its events, and Chilled is no different. Set in the grounds of a manor house in the Kent countryside, Chilled is a family friendly weekend of workshops, live music and DJs.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals Chilled in a Field, Kent

This year around 500 people – some hippies, some 90s ravers-cum-parents, and others loyal ‘Planeteers’ – made their way out of town to enjoy the relaxed daytime atmosphere, and to dance their nights away, although not too late as this is a family friendly event. The line-up featured live music from the Handsome Jack Show Band rocking through some indie rock classics, followed by DJs including three sets over five days from B-Fly himself.

Possibly not best classified as an outright music festival, Chilled in a Field is an amped up village fete meets alternative family getaway – with something for the parents and the kids. It still managed to rock the music, there’s plenty to keep you entertained and importantly, well fed.


BoomTown, Mattersley Bowl, Winchester


BoomTown takes place in a natural bowl, and is a collection of purpose built small ‘towns’ including Chinatown, Mayfair and Trenchtown around which some 30,000 Boomtownies camp. This year B-Fly strategically placed himself by the reggae field of Trenchtown. Not a bad choice, as the music was soothing and the proximity to the gate made for a quick getaway at the festival’s end.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals Boomtown

The scale of BoomTown is massive, and a specific GPS app would have been handy! Once again there were places for the kids, arts and crafts, fantastic food, and of course, the music. Adding to the atmosphere, the towns featured backdrops reminiscent of film sets, including a breath taking Aztec inspired temple and a giant boom box. The Arcadia Spider in the middle of Down Town, with its fire and lasers looked like it had been bought second hand following U2’s 360 World Tour.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals Boomtown

The British love a dress up, and BoomTown brings it, with punters in fancy dress from dawn till dawn. Incidentally, a dinosaur onesie comes in very handy during the chillier morning hours. The food options were also great, and it has to be said that the toilets were not nearly as bad as you’d expect from an event attended by 30,000 people. Although, this might be because a lot of people found it easier to just go in the woods.

Musically, the highlights have to be the live gypsy swing band Flap, as well as the hefty dose of drum and bass, breaks and ghetto funk from the DJs. Over at the Rave Yard, set in the grounds of a church (geddit?), hard core and hard house set the grounds vibrating, followed up by some psy-trance, which although not to B-Fly’s taste shows there’s something for everyone at BoomTown. On the whole, this festival is a definite goer according to B-Fly who reckons the event is likely to keep on growing in the future.


The Summer House Weekend, Surrey


After the blowout that was BoomTown, time for something a little more chilled says B-Fly, finding himself at yet another country house, this time in the hills of Surrey. The Summer House Weekend is run by the man behind the successful White Mischief, famed for its cabarets, elaborate fancy dress policies and that essential element of naughtiness. This event lives up to expectations.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals the Summer House Weekend Surrey

The various daytime workshops offered interesting ways for attendees to get to know each other…really know each other, including speed meeting and talks on fairly intimate subjects. This event is like no other, and the Saturday night dress up theme – this year Once Upon a Midsummer Night’s Dream – is strict. Don’t distress, there was a fancy dress workshop ahead of time for those in need of inspiration. One highlight came a bit of a surprise – the cuddle workshop – all about the human touch, consent and ended in a big cuddle puddle (or one massive spoon-fest).

On the lawn B-Fly officially (totally unofficially) took matters into his own masterful hands after discovering tunes were coming courtesy of an iPod. No one seemed bothered by his three hour sets though, from which he subsequently scored some new gigs. Not, officially, bad.

The property featured a small lake, next to which was a sauna, and between which lots of naked attendees ran. There was also a campfire and tents for changing in and just generally chilling out. But this was a decadent event, with bedrooms in the house available for the weekend, glamping options, and lavish meals served through several sittings in the large dining room.

As the evenings fell, the music also moved inside beginning with cabaret, followed by DJs until close. Of course, there was also the Playroom for those who have found someone to ‘play’ with – let’s not discuss that, and say we did. Not quite what you’d call a festival, rather a weekend retreat for naughty people, this event managed to be a bit posh but also very free spirited. As for B-Fly, after taking over the daytime deejaying, sweating it out in the sauna and relaxing by the fire, he felt better when he left than he did upon arrival!


Shambala, Northampton


And so to the final festival of the season; Shambala is a family friendly festival with a lot going on to keep the 8,000 or so attendees entertained including a cinema, theatre, dance workshops, arts and crafts, two large stages for music and a tent, which by day hosted ping pong and roller disco while by night became the main dance hall. Also dotted around the site were a number of smaller areas perfect for stumbling upon.

DJ Bfly's UK music festivals Shambala

Shambala was by far the friendliest festival of the season, which doesn’t come as a surprise given it had its own healing field with yoga classes and massage, intended to keep everyone calm, relaxed and at ease. Add to this quality live acts, including in hidden locations dotted around the site, making for an amazing experience to end the season on. The main stage played host to some pretty big names in world music; however some were unfortunately missed as it was just too easy to lose track of time – and the schedule – when chatting to punters in the comfy seating scattered about.

While generally conveying a hippy vibe, the highlight of the event for B-Fly was the Police Rave Unit, or PRU. The PRU consisted of a police transit van (presumably ex-police) with the roof removed, a DJ booth built into it and a simple but effective sound system. The PRU travelled around the site as people followed. Dressed in police uniforms the PRU crew took great delight in stopping by the craft workshops or people chilling by the lake to demand the constituents ‘rave hard’. B-Fly was singled out for bad behaviour and instructed to ‘glug that cocktail’. One can only oblige. The yogis in the Healing Field were too much for the PRU to resist, however that was only until an announcement over the PA asking them – the PRU, not the yogis – to kindly ‘push on’.

Shambala had something stimulating for all. While not the mega rave of BoomTown, if you looked carefully there were smaller parties to be found after hours. Although popular, according to B-Fly, Shambala doesn’t seem to be growing. It remains one of the larger festivals, but manages to retain a sense of something more intimate. A perfect all-rounder on which to end the season.

B-Fly's Top Tips for Festival Goers

       
    1. *Arrive early to get a good spot.
    2. *Plan well in advance when using public transport. Some festivals can be out of the way and hard to get to, so you'll be competing with fellow festival goers for local services.
    3. *Pace yourself, it's a marathon not a sprint. Make sure you eat, sleep and keep hydrated!
    4. *For the budget conscious, take sealed packs of food. For a touch of luxury take a coffee percolator (and coffee). This will also make you very popular on the mornings after.
    5. *While it's good to see the acts you like, a festival is the perfect place to discover new music. You're almost guaranteed to come across a band or DJ you've never heard of but will think is brilliant.
    6. *Be sociable. Talk to people and take advantage of the festival vibe.
    7. *Arrange meeting places with your friends in case someone gets lost, but if possible stay together and look after each other. Otherwise, finding your mates amongst a crowd of 30,000 is just not going to happen.
    8. *Don't take anything you can't afford to lose (you really won't be needing the iPod!). And be prepared to lose something, it's a music festival, it's gonna happen.
       -Eliza Rose Harper
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