Week 4 of Bob’s Cabaret
After last week’s shenanigans (see http://www.guilfin.net/reports/?id=rwINET1310) I had expected many, many people down at Area 10 last night. Indeed, I had invited a bus load of people, and for once people were actually making noises that indicated they might even come down to Peckham *gasp*.

Going down early, the entrance was all closed up, but we rang the door bell, and we were welcomed again by Miles, who remembered my name again. Nice touch.

To get to the main arena it is necessary to walk through a huge, dark warehouse, heading towards a small lit doorway. Through the door way is the bar, the balcony, projection screens, videos and the main performance space. This place is all about space. It is massive.

Last night I was proved wrong in my assumption that cock sucking and public pissing would be a huge draw. There was a small crowd. Everyone is very approachable. I interrogated last week’s “suckee” regarding whether or not the sucking had been planned. He replied that he was not allowed to tell. Hmmm…

The show kicked off with a man playing improvised on an electric guitar. Good to begin, but with time he outstayed his welcome, and people started to talk amongst themselves, and buy more drinks. And the night, to a certain extent, continued like this. More of a party atmosphere with a lot of milling about.

A projector showed a rather abstract film called Santa Sangre, directed by Alejandro Jodorowsky. Scenes that I caught including a man having his willy sliced off, a Jesus type character being escorted by a crowd of kids with Down’s syndrome, and the sliced willy man tying a boy down and tatooing him. This seemed to have caught the attention of a large proportion of the punters.

A man started doing a similar improvisation (to the guitar, not the film) on a double bass, which was very nice indeed. Easy to slip into.

Next was a video, which consisted of following an old lady in a “Rascal” electric buggy around Peckham. Hmm…

After this my friends got a bit restless, obviously slightly disapointed that there was less of the Exorcist going on. We decided to split.

Highlight for me was talking to a bloke with trousers embedded with LEDs, who turned out to be Frank Zappa’s old photographer.

Not as nutty as last week, but a grand little party venue. Very chilled. Definitely worth checking out if you like a bit of arty farty stuff.