I've been trying to think of a way to describe, in the few short words that make up a post, just what fabulosity is in store for me in 58 short days when I go to see Jerry Springer: The Opera. I couldn't put it any better than this blurb from the Opera House's website:
And oh my lordy David Wenham is Jerry! Be still my beating fun-stick.
A pre-op transsexual… A man with nappy fetish… A pole-dancing housewife… Dancing Klansmen… The Devil… And a Jesus who admits he’s just a little bit ‘gay’…
A cast of 21 performers, with an 8-piece band, play a succession of lowlife characters, each desperate for their own ‘Jerry Springer’ moment. They fight, they cuss, they reveal their secrets – all via a sung-through score that ranges from pop and Broadway to classical and contemporary opera.
“It’s got tragedy, it’s got violence, there are people screaming at each other and you can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s perfect for opera.” Richard Thomas, Conductor
How ever will I hold down my job, perform home economics, and remember to wash and dress myself when such a transcendental, transformative experience awaits? (Seriously, any suggestions welcome.)
The only thing that would top off the show itself would be a pre- or post-show interview with the pre-op transsexual, the chap with the nappy fetish, or the pole-dancing housewife, etc.
I reckon it's so gonna happen because my brother's uncle's sister's nephew snogged a guy who knows the chick who used to work behind the bar in the restaurant across the road from where the guy who donated his left testicle to the infertile couple who were on the real Springer show in June a couple of years ago used to have noodles after work. It's all coming together beautifully.