Larks Tongues ? Again ?

What to drink while reading a book of food reviews? And what to eat while reading a book of wine reviews? Very Melbourne kind of dilemmas. Especially during a festival of plays about people who write food and wine reviews to save the children in Cambodia. You'd have to go with an unpretentious unwooded semillion, wouldn't you ? Or even a pretentious one. Accompanied by some  retin-free llama-cheese pizzas cooked in a wood fired oven blessed by Tibetan refugee monks. I mean what else. It's obvious.

 And people of Melbourne I don't know how to break this to you but there is a two week gap in the year where there are NO FESTIVALS PLANNED. WTF people! How can you have let this happen ? I love festivals. I even accidentally signed up for a gold pass to a week-long knitting festival. Make no mistake, I love knitting. Okay. Well. I totally approve of knitting. Otherwise the world would be littered with balls of coloured wool and that'd be wrong. So, hey. Let's knit. Well look, you knit - I'm off to the Webern and Welsh rarebit festival of music and cheese in Gertrude St. Should pace myself but.

I'm still making amends to my friends for dragging them along to the Blind Tap-dancers Revenge.. a Ukrainian show which involved them sitting round chanting re-education camp texts from the old USSR days while beating themselves rhythmically with hollow pine staves & gargling ferret's blood and squid's ink before vomiting up their innermost feelings about the failings of the Communist Manifesto. Put it this way, it wasn't my idea of comedy. Those Russians. Waiter, bring me the whine list.

So seriously, what should one drink while watching a drunken brawl in King St at 3 am ? Beer's the obvious thing but I wonder if a slightly surly chilled chili-vodka shot might not be appropriate. With some Stilton on rye Melba toast of course. We're not savages !!

And more importantly, is there a play in all this ? Well I don't know for sure, but as original Melbourne Festival of Everything Director Viscounti Tolarno Barrista once said to me:

"Gary, never take a spoon to a knife fight"

Which has always puzzled me. My name's not Gary.

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