Burlesque, where you’re often left wondering just what you’ve gotten yourself into (again).
Burlesque, where (yes, it’s a place)… where a 3am Messenger missive calling for “unicorns and ceremonial knives” is entirely in line with established procedure.
Burlesque, where the same established procedures established themselves c. 2009, and, barring an odd hiatus here and there that’s also in line with the shambolic nature of this beast anyway, remain very much in force.
Burlesque, where ‘organised chaos’ is not the perfect method, but it’s the only one we know.
Burlesque, which in our case isn’t even technically burlesque but kind of is and the vibe is there so we just go with it.
Burlesque, which is more of a fringe theatre event set up to provide some breathing room and colour in an island stifled by so many things, so often.
Burlesque, which we’ve run through yesterday against the antiseptic tang of a freshly-washed “alternative” cinema — whose slippery cleanliness a high-heeled centaur was very much apprehensive about.
Burlesque, which starts up again in three days (And runs for three days.)
Apocalesque, our latest iteration, needs you.