Theatre sorts…

365/17. Daily notes from the City of Culture.

Hull's theatre sorts

I still have no idea why but I was summoned to a photocall, along with just about everyone else that makes theatre in the city of Hull. It was a veritable who’s who of relatively recent University of Hull graduates, and us. And it was far too early in the morning for anyone to make sense of why we were there, or even talk coherently. One free cup of Thieving Harry’s coffee was not quite enough.

We were told to not “wear any massive Pepsi/Nike etc logos or anything like that.”  Everyone complied with this request, probably as it was too late to go out and purchase brands that we’d never go anywhere near. And we got to fuck about on the rooftop garden of the new Humber Street Gallery and lean on walls and doors down Humber Street while we pouted theatrically in the direction of a camera lens, looking mean and angry and subversive and revolutionary. Which is, of course, all fake.

There was no real drama of which to speak, just a lot of what the excessively large in number gig-theatre evangelists Middle Child (Hull theatre’s most successful five-a-side football squad. A lot of strength-in-depth on that bench) would refer to as ‘bantz’, which no doubt bodes well for the future.

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