For the uninitiated (namely me, since everyone else I've spoken to seems to have heard of it) the Show is an annual event for all the Scout and Guide groups in the area and involves singing, dancing and acting on the big stage at the King's Theatre. This is the 75th year and Cal got to go as part of the quota of cubs and brownies. They have to audition, y'know.
Where to start? It makes me want to describe it with words like 'marvellous' and 'spiffing'. The curtain rose on 200 of them all sing-singing along in their neck scarves and shiny skirts (for the girls, anyway). I was immediately transported back in time to the 1950s, which was apparently where they had found all their scenery, which they had written the skits to fit. Bravely, they included lyrics about how cool and on-trend scouting was, and proved it with a costume change to sparkly sequined waistcoats that brought them up to at least 1982. Then they really went for it by throwing in a folded-arm gangsta pose at the end. Right on!
In fact, there were only three basic dances all night: the side to side dance, the gangsta pose, and various versions of spirit fingers/hands in the air. Occasionally some of the older ones did couple dances that inevitably ended with the girl sitting on the boy's knee. There was just enough situations in which people went the wrong way and cannoned into each other to keep you on your toes.
I knew Cal was featuring in two Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat songs, so at the appropriate moment I squeezed Al's hand: 'Here he comes!''How do you know?' enquired the proud dad.
'Don't tell me you don't recognised the opening chords to Jacob and Sons?'
All I got in return was a quizzical eyebrow. Could it be that I had kept my teenage obsession with musicals hidden for an entire two year relationship? Hmm.
Anyway, on came the prodigal son, featuring as 'boy at the right hand end of first line', and very good he was too. Up stepped another little pip squeak to sing the solo in Close Every Door. 'Aw', went everyone before he even opened his mouth. 'Aw' they all went again as he gamely squeaked his way through, missing all the high notes and squinting into the lights. Bless.
This segued into a joint High School Musical number with the brownies, and so the show went on. 'Is there supposed to be some sort of story?' enquired Al, gamely, after an hour.
At the end of the first half came a moment that redefined scouting for me forever. It was the obligatory Scottish bit, which started with a return to 1950 with peasant costumes and woodland scenery. Aaiiiee, I was watching Scottish country dancing! Then they sang Walking to the Kirk on Sunday Morning. Aaiiieee! I was listening to Walking to the Kirk on Sunday Morning! I was paying for this! Oh no, wait, I wasn't: Al was.
Then they did a 'Highland Swing Dance' ('We could do that!' I poked Al excitedly.) Then came the life-changing bit. The woodland scenery came up to reveal the full cast. And they started singing a Proclaimers medley to the tune of 'One Day More' from Les Miserables!!
They did the marching on the spot dance! There was dry ice! They sang 500 Miles! And they were waving a saltire at the back!!
I am not making any of this up. You know how rarely I use multiple exclamation marks.
I laughed so hard I thought I was going to throw up, and I had to bury my head in Al's arm to avoid censure from surrounding showbiz mums.
It was the most entertaining thing I've ever seen on stage. And there was more! OK, you can't really top a French-proletariat-rebellion-come-Scottish-eighties-anthem moment. But the second half featured the older kids, with some good soloists. A girl with an amazing voice sang Only the Good Die Young. There was a Robin Hood sketch, with an excellent dastardly Sheriff of Nottingham who sang a version of 'Rehab'. For some reason an entire circus turned up in the middle of Sherwood Forest for one song, and the merry men were all gay. Clearly the scouts are not yet completely PC.
Ooh, and my second favourite moment was when Maid Marion came on and sang truly awfully amongst yet more woodland scenery and a spotlight with a 'forest floor' effect that made her look like she was standing on a giant pizza. Squeakity, warbly, blah, she sang, and on came a girl dressed in pink with wings.
'Al, look out!' I instructed. 'Maid Marion is being attacked by a giant man-eating butterfly!'
Another dancer entered stage right.
'Two giant man-eating butterflies!'
'Hnarg?' enquired proud dad, opening his eyes and wiping drool from his chin.
Maid Marion proceeded to 'sing' about all her dear little woodland friends, while the animals did spirit fingers/hands in the air. There was a giant mouse, a giant owl, two giant bunnies ('I was a bunny in my ballet show when I saw six,' I informed Al, proudly. 'They're doing quite well.') and a giant something-triangular-and-brown. I later surmised from the lyrics that this may have been a newt.
There was a song about how Glasgow had got the Commonwealth Games but it didn't matter because England had lost the Rugby World Cup. An obligatory hymn (again, quite a good soloist). And then obligatory Scottish bit #2. They did some traditional jamboreeing in kilts, a female soloist entered and I hoped it was the good one, but no! It was Maid Marion again! Aaiiee!
They all sang It's time for us to leave you. Al looked hopeful. They sang Caledonia while giant saltires descended from the ceiling. I sang along. Al tried to look appreciative and then, with a final hands in the air salute, it was all over.
They're on till Saturday so all I can say is, if you can get a ticket you will be entertained.
How marvellous. How spiffing.
PS - Can you believe the blogspot spellcheck doesn't recognise 'saltire'? No wonder the Scots have an inferiority complex.
2 comments:
Seriously?
What, the saltire thing? Yeah. I have spelt it right, haven't I?
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