THEGAYUK

Day: 23 October 2016

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Moby Dick! The Musical

    ★★★★ | You don’t have to be a fan of aquatic placental spout-squirting marine mammals to appreciate Andrew Wright’s take on Moby Dick – but a penchant for choreography that could power a fleet of trawlers, an affection for Glee-style musical numbers and an esteem for the male form, in two beautiful varieties, will help you stay afloat.

    St. Godley’s Academy for Young Ladies are in a bit of financial bother. Headmistress (X Factor’s Anton Stephans) decides to stage a musical version of Herman Melville’s classic novel Moby Dick to keep the shark from the porthole. Think St. Trinian’s meets Peter Pan with a wave of Carry on Cruising – Ofsted would have an algae-ridden-seabed day.

    In amongst the spot-light rivalry, over-the-blouse gropes, double entendres, an inappropriate use of a ruler, African jigs, amateur projector marine displays, dark angel trolly dashes, Sinitta (probably just because it was press night), the occasional can-can and a male striptease – in amongst the pandemonium of jollity is a cast humpbacked-full of enthusiasm, each sperming their own individual clicks, pulses and whistles.

    Ishmael (Rachel Anne Rayham) would give a chorus of orcas a swim for their money with her compelling vocal cords. Anton’s animated boat-race did him no favours with Mr Cowell but worked superbly spurting life into the Headmistress and Ahab. And Glen Facey’s pirouettes, fouettés and fish dives were executed without so much as a splash.

    School uniform isn’t mandatory, and you may be encouraged to dance with the Head, but there’s no Moby about enjoying this Dick – it’s a sure thing.

    Wednesday 12th October – Saturday 12th November 2016 Tuesday to Sunday, 7.30pm
Saturday and Sunday matinees, 2.30pm

    Union Theatre, 204 Union Street, London SE1 0LX – phone: 020 7261 9876

    Tickets are available starting at £15

    Book: www.uniontheatre.biz

  • CAR REVIEW | Volkswagen’s Golf GTi

    ★★★★ | Volkswagen’s Golf GTi redefined the go faster car in the 70s. With its hatchback styling, it started the Hot Hatch trend that we have seen go from strength to strength. It was then seen as the benchmark for all GTi’s in the 80s and thanks to high insurance premiums and a lack of love GTi’s felt in the 90s, it lost its way.

    © VW

    It tried to bounce back with lacklustre attempts in its Mk4 guise but then love for the GTi returned. Volkswagen saw the errors of their ways and addressed the situation.

    Now in its 7th generation, the Golf has stayed true to form. Its design is simple both inside and out. While some manufactures have opted for garish add-ons and bulges in places, VW have not. Likewise, they have not tried to redesign the hatchback with pointless styling that can date very quickly. Outside they have ironed out a few lines, placed emphasis on simplistic looks and then added some Golf GTi design touches.

    © VW

    The red line along the grill blending into the front lights is a nice touch. Inside it is all very Golf. There is no mistaking that you are in anything else other than a Golf. This Mk7, like my own Mk2, is like slipping into comfy slippers and that is why the Golf is still ahead of the game with a philosophy VW had perfected from the days of the Beetle. Make changes only where needed and do no more other than to make it better.

    Anyway enough of the old and more of the new. On the road, this is one quick car. 0-60 comes up in just over 6 seconds and reaches legal speed limits before you realise. Add to this the almost sumptuous comfort and you soon lose sense of what fast actually feels like. Standing starts feel quick but soon blend into a senseless wonder of how fast you are actually going.

    What aids this is the 5 road settings. There are soft settings, hard settings and mixture settings where you can choose the damping rates, gear changes and steering feel. This Golf doesn’t compromise you in any way. You can have a fast Golf with comfort or a fast Golf with a spine-jarring sporty ride.

     

    © VW

    The economy is a marvel too. Father in the passenger seat, we managed around 40 mpg on the way to Bognor. After l had kicked him out, l managed 17 mpg according to the computer. With fuel figures like these, you could be hard pressed to find a car that has so many life skills. Todays GTi is to all men and women a satisfying car to pilot if you want a Golf that will take you places without fuss or a full on GTi with excitement to match that red stripe in the grill. It doesn’t scream at you that it is can be a flat out fast machine. It’s identity is the GTi badge. Subtle and discreet.

    All this fun from a Golf that now has a faster model in the range coming out soon is to the GTi’s benefit. The GTi has a crossed over identity. It’s not the fast thrills and frills GTi it used to be. Then again it isn’t a GTi that you can’t live with if it is to be your only car. 3 or 5 doors, space for 1 to 5 and luggage space to match. It’s practical. It is put together well.  Above all, it’s a Volkswagen.

    VW’s philosophy just gets better and better. It doesn’t age either. You could be forgiven for having a mind blank when trying to figure out if this is the mk7 or 6 or is it a 5? It’s not a 5. You know it isn’t a 5. However, the shape isn’t too dissimilar to the Golf 2 generations ago. This time they have made it look sharper. Squared off those rounded shapes, flattened a few lines. Golf doesn’t have swoops and curves. It remains crisp and sharp for an entire production run and continues to do so when it is replaced. The major contributing factor is that Golf is so on the money all of the time. Others fail to emulate it. It’s almost like VW’s design team have a crystal ball.

    I still marvel at its on-road ability. I can’t actually place it as an out and out performer because it is everything you could want. So we shall set it to comfort and drive it. You can drive it fast. The DSG auto box changes smoothly. The ride is compliant. It glides along. It’s very Golf.

    © VW

    Change the settings and add a little magic and Golf becomes more GTi. Changes are sharper, steering becomes more communicative requiring increased input. The gliding becomes more ‘Jack Rabbit’ and this time it darts around the road.

    Roundabouts become playgrounds. Entries and exits are now flatter and quicker. Using the steering wheel paddles for gear changing allows you to now choose when the changes happen. This allows full access to the 227bhp available at 4500rpm. Stretch it further and it’ll reward you even though you are well past the peak torque at a lowly 1500rpm.

    Inside it remains Golf. The retro check GTi fabric on the seats is also another nice touch. At night there are red lights that appear within the red strip of the front doors. It’s a shame this doesn’t stretch to the rear doors.

    It’s still expensive and on paper at least, it seems a little behind the times. 40 years on it is still the GTi king. There is no getting away from that fact. You cannot deny the Golf GTi that title.

    In a time where excessive add-ons are the norm, the subtlety of the Golf rewards you with a competent car that to drive is both rewarding or comfortable or both. It’s just that l don’t know which one of the two rewards is the better?

    Likes 
    Retro GTi touches
    Ride
    Performance

    Loathes 
    Generic VW dashboard
    Red lighting not in the rear doors
    Price

    The Lowdown 
    Car – Volkswagen Golf GTi DSG
    Price – £30,925
    MPG – 44.1(combined)
    Power – 227bhp @ 4500rpm
    0-62mph – 6.4 seconds
    Top Speed – 154 mph
    Co2 – 149 (g/km)

  • Column | The Burden Of Survival

    When you hear of somebody surviving an accident, recovering from an illness or defeating odds there are always the same buzzwords. We say we are blessed or thankful or grateful. Those who enquire get regaled with the story of our hurdles as people earnestly hold our hands and thank God for your still being on Earth. The one word you never hear mentioned is ‘burden’.

    When I was born, the doctors immediately knew something was wrong. My body was contorted, my ear was deformed, my foot was clubbed to the extent where they had to immediately cut my hamstring to loosen the tightness. I was operated on as they battled to save me. This deformed boy and his twin sister. My sister recovered quickly from the harshness of a caesarian section but for me, it was just the beginning. My parents sat, solemn, as they were told the boy they dreamed of would not be long on this Earth. He would never walk, talk or crawl. They sat frozen, as they were told I had a two year life expectancy.

    Then my third birthday came. And I could crawl, I began to walk and I could talk. My parents, like others, believed it was a miracle. They believed that God had shined a light on their son. They sat, operation after operation, wondering if the miracle would finally run out. Like they were in a pay and display parking bay and the metre was near empty. But I would return. Scarred, sure, but alive. The miracle kept on being a miracle. And so the baby became a child, whose parents were told would never be able to feed himself, began getting good grades in school. My parents looked on in proud amazement with each examination certificate, each award, each monumental step they thought they’d never see. And with this came the burden. To always do more and be more. Their child, their miracle.

    My parents never put this pressure on me. Nor did anyone else. But boy do I feel the expectation. You begin to feel invincible. I have been through operations where I have flatlined on the table, where they once intubated me with such force it pushed my teeth forward requiring braces. I have felt the grip of asthma, cruelly squeezing my lungs of their last breath. I have overcome so many hurdles, and it’s hard not to think there’s a reason. I don’t believe in God but how many times does one person get to cheat Death? To defy the odds? But with each time, the burden got greater. The burden to be something that makes a difference in the world.

    This ambition has led me down so many paths, has forced so many mistakes. It has seen me desperate for affection and make some poor decisions, just to be noticed. I want to believe that me being alive makes a difference in the world so that, if the miracle runs out, it was all worthwhile. So every misstep hurts that little bit more. Coming out as gay hurt a little bit more because it felt like I was disappointing others. It makes me give things up way too soon because I constantly feel like I’m running the clock. That I have to get to some sort of finish line.

    I believe that I have met the true love of my life. He felt like the missing piece, my true second half. But he came with his demons and I tried to stand by him but when it looked like our relationship wasn’t going to be PERFECT, I backed off. I began to grow tired of his low moments, I grew angry that he didn’t have the same ambition I did. He wanted to be happy but he had his own battles to face, so he wasn’t. My need to both be the best boyfriend and HAVE the best boyfriend added pressure. It pushed him away. And now I struggle to even date because I don’t believe anybody could match him in my mind or my heart.

    Then, in March, I almost died. It was discovered that I was a insulin dependant Diabetic. My Doctors had confused the symptoms for a stomach virus and my body began shutting down. I was told I was around two days away from death. This has added a whole new aspect to my life. My body is black and blue with the bruises from injections. My fingertips glow red with the endless pricking and drawing of blood I have to do. And I’m exhausted. Mentally and physically. This has broken me. People keep telling me that I’ll get used to it, that it’ll become normal but I implore them to try injecting themselves five times a day and feel normal. I am tired of having to be careful, frightened of what might happen. And then, there’s the burden. That I have been given the freedom to live, as long as I take my medication. Years ago, when Diabetes was unknown, people just died. It killed them fast. Now I have the responsibility of being grateful for the power of modern medicine. So when I feel down and exhausted, I feel ungrateful and selfish too.

    Nobody ever talks about the burden of surviving. But I’ve experienced operations and rehab, pain and heartbreak and near-death and recovery. And as I get older, the burden of survival somehow lessens. Because with each new day, life teaches me that I have no control over what’s going to happen. So the burden slowly chips away to reveal that, deep down, the only thing I need to feel is lucky. And all I can do is my best to remember that. To breathe in and feel the air in my lungs because no matter how I feel when I wake up, I must always try to take a moment to feel blessed, to be grateful and to give thanks. Because, the crux of it all is: I’ve survived.

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