08 launch, Nipples, James Bond Lynne scan
At St George's Hall for the launch of the 2008 programme last night. A brave and quirky evening that whetted the appetite for 2008. Many I spoke to thought more emphasis could have been placed on communicating the events programme. Hopefully the brochure, brilliantly written, will do the trick.
Of course there's tonight's Echo which has sixteen pages packed with all the details of what I believe is a very good programme.
There are one or two showpiece events and a hugely diverse support programme that justifies the cliche 'something for everyone'.
The event took the form of a voyage of discovery around the hidden corners of the magnificent St George's Hall - with avant garde and mainstream culture lurking in every nook and cranny.
In the old courtroom a LED screen asked the question: 'What does Liverpool culture mean to you?' Guests were invited to text their reply to a mobile phone number and their responses then appeared, as if by magic, on the screen for all to see.
Amazingly, the answer 'The Echo' kept appearing. Loyalty prevents me from naming the guilty party.
I spent part of the night draped in a feather boa in the company of two burlesque performers who, dressed in jaw-dropping black underwear, were quite simply the most exquisite creatures I have ever seen.
Someone used my phone to take a picture of me with one of them, which I showed to Lynne when I got home.
'You can see her nipples'. Lynne said accusingly. 'They're not her nipples', I countered. 'For Heaven's sake, Alastair,'' she scowled, ''I know a bloody nipple when I see one!' Why is this girl showing you her nipples?''
This was not going well.
''They aren't her nipples,'' I insisted. ''They are bits of silver body jewellery that look like nipples.''
She ignored me. ''Harry,'' she yelled. ''Come and see this picture. This is what your dad gets up to when he says he's working.''
Harry looked. ''She's got her nipples out,'' he said. ''Good on you, dad. I'm proud of you.''
I'll share the picture with you as soon as I can uopload it. Judge my innocence for yourselves.
Tomorrow I'll tell you why James Bond hates me. Tonight is Lynne's MRI Scan. Hoping, hoping it tells us what's wrong.
