On the Town

Tales of Going out and flaunting it

The Rocky Horror Show, Stoke on Trent, October 2nd

Well, what can we say of the nightlife of Stoke on Trent? Sadly it almost seemed like a Tuesday than a Saturday, it's not exactly buzzing so the visit of the Rocky tour was just about the most exciting thing that's happened there since Port Vale knocked Accrington Stanley out of the Miners cup in 1846.

When we arrived in town, a cock up in reading the curtain time on the tickets meant that we had two and a half hours in which to attempt to show off to as much of the town as possible. It wasn't difficult, after a faltering start where we found the wrong theatre and nearly went to see Madame Butterfly we found the correct one and nipped in to take a badly needed Jimmy. Accross the street was a nice little old fashioned pub with lots of copper and brass, an inglenook fireplace and probably a cribbage board and a box of dominoes behind the bar. Perferct, just the sort of place we wanted. A happy, slightly merry fellow sitting near the fireplace was pleased to see us and after we sat down came over to tell us "Wonderful, you've brought pleasure to the pub lads" which gave us a titter since Rowena, although she does like a pint does not quite make it in the "Lad" stakes, being a mother of two. After our drink we decided we needed forage so made our way out to find an eatery. Since our arrival a bunch of twenty something lads had appeared next to the entrance and as we exited one of them said "I'd fuck yer both", I remember thinking, "of course you would darling, you evidently follow the Arab philosophy of a woman for duty, a boy for pleasure, but don't say it too often , you're mates will find out". He did follow it up with some mumbled comment about "fucking queers" so that his mates would believe that he wouldn't even fuck Rowena as she was obviously also a queer.

Across the street a nice asian with saffron stained hands provided us with a tandoori chicken and chips. Our hunger sated we set off in search of another pub and soon found one, already discovered by appropriately clad theatre goers, there we stayed until curtain time approached, whereupon we made our way back to the theatre. A large queue had formed outside the theatre just opposite the earlier pub and the gang of lads had expanded and moved outside. Clutching their pints in about the same position as a warrior clutches his shield they stood across the street serenading us all with a slightly altered football terrace ditty, of which I could only make out "Nurr nur-nur-nur fuckin queers, nur nur-nur-nur-nur-nur Fu-ckin queeeeeers!". How nice of them to entertain us while we stood in the cold wind waiting. They were just soooooo heterosexual, soooooooooooo butch! Oooooooooh I wish I was so straight, NOT! Come and cross the road if you think you're hard enough is what I think, 600 to 10? we'll beat you to death with our handbags and stomp you with stillettos.

Rowena told me, it's OK dear they're not singing about you, to which I replied "Oooh, I'm so disapointed!"

Someone recently said to me that it was difficult to understand how people can repeatedly go to the same show but as any of you who have experienced a Rocky show will know, it ain't the stage that does it, it's the freeform dialogue from the stalls and the spectacle in the half time bar that makes the evening. My proudest moment came when after only eight Rocky shows I managed to contribute a piece of originality which all my fellow West Midlanders would be proud of. When Dr Frank asked Magentas opinion of his new creation it would seem that the sixties panelist on Juke Box Jury, Kathy McGowan had slipped in to offer "Oi'll give it foive!"

A lovely show, but if anyone ever asks if you fancy a night out in Stoke and you have some wet paint which needs keeping an eye on while it dries, stay with the paint dear!

Love

Mandy