Damn you SKY, damn you to Hell!...

The global communications company SKY has invaded the comfort of my abode and wreaked havoc with everything it touched. After naively thinking their £26 a month deal for TV, Broadband and Phone offer would be a good idea and signing my life into their hands, I am now currently residing in a flat that is bereft of terrestrial TV, no broadband and have been billed £20 for the experience. Ironically, no one at SKY thinks this is bad for a new customer or can communicate within their customer services departments. Apparently, it takes 3 working days to log a complaint which is most likely to be filed under 'IGNORE AND TRANSLATE INTO FARSI' so only limited individuals who fluent in a dead language are able to respond and help you. I am now 'sans' internet access at home after SKY decided to disconnect us two weeks ago, without warning or sending the correct 'technical team' to install a dish to our roof, connect the relevant cables and routers and, you know, basically do their job as stated. According to Rupert's people, second floor flats require a 'specialist team' team of installers, who are few and far between, obviously trained along side Japanese Samurai, the Gurkhas and elite SAS soldiers. This does mean I'm unable to regularly update this blog until it's all been sorted, which probably at this rate, will be around the same time the London Olympics opens in 2012.

Charlie reminds me....

I've decided. I must procrastinate more when I write. About random things. More the things that annoy or confound me, like men or those dire chewing gum ads that supposedly declare it's "mastication for the nation".

Certain entries about my life and hobbies are certainly quite dull, well not dull exactly, I'm just not in the slightest inventive when it comes to prose. My fault is that I don't write enough. Midnight blog entries are never going to win the masses for the prize of hilarity. And that's why my book and script ideas are still, well, just ideas.

Thank you Mr Charlie Brooker.

Don't talk like a slut Shelley...

Those of you may know, I am currently taking extra lessons in tap every Sunday and Monday now. Sunday class is specifically Broadway Tap (more jazz hands and I tend to sweat a lot more essentially). I love these classes, even though tapping is not my strong point, I want get better at it. As Mary Poppins would say, practice makes perfect. Ironically one of my fellow tap dancers in this class is none other than Emma Williams who played the part of Shelley in the West End production of Bat Boy. Emma, for those not familiar with her recent media coverage, was going to 'support' Connie Francis and also play Maria in 'The Sound of Music' when it opened at The Palladium last year. She decided to pull out and lots of media hoopla proceeded, with suggestions Emma not wanting to be seen as an 'understudy' (fair enough to me, if that's the case). Certain papers accusing the show of 'fixing' the reality TV competition. Emma was also the youngest ever female to play a lead in the West End for her part as Truly Scrumptuous in 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. I hope she forgives me if I got any of the information wrong just now (and for the fact I've actually put up a link to a Daily Mail article -shudder down spine- something I try not to promote as a rule) Emma obviously knows 'Bat Boy' inside and out and was really enthusiastic to find out we're doing the show. Hopefully, she can come and see the show come June.

More reason to put on great show. No pressure.

On another musical note, I purchased the new Broadway version of 'Company', my favourite Sondheim musical. About a single guy called Robert who refuses to settle down and is surrounded by various couples, all wondering why such a great guy like him is, well, single. Lots of observation about dating, relationships and the ultimate realisation of what it truly means to find someone you can love. (Any similarities to my situation are purely coincidental of course. I can't emphasise with one bit - stop scoffing. Yes, you at the back. Yes, I'm pointing at you. I heard that, take that back right now). This new recording has revamped the original 1970s score whilst still retaining what was true and poignant. Go buy it now. It's a musical for adults who have real problems. Not a single jazz hand in sight but some of the best lyrics ever written.