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Showcase 2001 Production Information

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The Social Events

Pub Crawl - Show Meal - After Show Party - Weekend Away

Fundraising Pub Crawl - July 2001

With the theme of "dressing as something from the show", we all set off on a roasting hot July evening from the Bull and Bush in Lothian Road. We had two sets of Four Tops, Guys and Dolls, Easter Parade, and a Hen Night (tenuous connection to Love and Marriage). If anyone reading this has any more stories, or photos, I'll gladly include them here.

Show Meal - L'Amore D'Italia, Fountainbridge

We normally expect to turn up to our favourite Italian Restaurant-cum-Karaoke bar to find it either empty, or with one or two people just leaving. Not so this year! A work night out from the Lothian Road branch of the Halifax was at the stage we normally get to at about 2am - you know, the "I'll just have one more drink, and whose turn is to sing anyway?" stage.  One of them made a fatal error as we all arrived, and started singing My Way. How their jaws dropped as it was immediately accompanied by perfect (well, near-perfect!) four-part harmony.  And that kind of set the tone for the evening of fun, food, frolics and singing. We got some of the usuals - Lisa's definitive rendition of The Greatest Love of All, AJ's unaccompanied attempt at Viva Las Vegas amongst them. But little did the waiter know what he was doing when he put on Nessum Dorma for a laugh! Robert Walker took the microphone and our jaws dropped nearly as much as the Halifax ladies' jaws had earlier.

After Show Party - Marco's, Slateford Road

What is there to tell? We had a party, we got drunk, we recreated as many numbers from the show as time would allow! Some photos will appear here.

The Weekend In Berwick

"How I lost my virginity at Berwick-Upon-Tweed"
by Dawnne Mahmoud

At thirty something with two children, it has been a not insignificant amount of time since I have been associated with that word. However, it is true to say that until November 3rd. 2001, I was indeed a virgin to the infamous Showcase Weekend Away. My days as a SWAV (Showcase Weekend Away Virgin) however were clearly numbered since, some 36 hours after arrival as a SWAV, I found myself lodged between Andy McGarry’s legs with a balloon on my head (at east I think that’s what it was).’Twas a very steep learning curve indeed, but more of that later….

The weekend started out as it clearly intended to continue by meeting Joan at Waverley station for coffee. "Coffee?" I hear you ask. Well, actually, we did go to Millies for two large paper cartons of…….er.…nothing. Joan, cheeky mare that she is, asked (very nicely) for two empty coffee cartons. Well after all, we had no reticules for enjoying our bottle or 3 of bubbly on the long train journey to sunny Berwick (45 minutes at 2.00pm in the afternoon is a long journey to think wistfully about a drunken weekend ahead without actually practising for it. Rehearsal is very important don’t you know!)

On arrival at Berwick, amidst sighs of relief from fellow passengers who did on a few occasions mutter regret at not having booked a seat in the "quiet carriage", we trundled off to Fawlty Towers. Actually it was supposedly called the Castle Hotel, but within minutes of meeting the manager/owner, it became clear that Castle was really an anagram of Fawlty (without the "e", "s" and "c"….– and I’ll have no smart ass remarks from Diane Countdown-Champ- Dootsie; it’s close enough for me ok?). Charming man that he was made us read the rules (a fairly wordy sheet of A4 paper) before we were allowed to do anything or go anywhere. Rule number one was to give your name to the reception…no, I’m not joking, it really did say that. And rules became quite a feature of our stay, as he did - on at least two occasions when Joan and I were looking for help - ask us if we’d read the instructions on the door, or read the rules. I was tempted to point out that I was dyslexic and did he have an audio version, but, well, I was supposed to be chilling out on a relaxing weekend, so I saved my Personnel/Equal Opportunities hat for coming back to work on Monday..

Without further ado, we settled into our room (small but cosy) and had a general muck about with costumes for the fancy dress the following evening. Fed up with mucking about and sobering up, we retreated to public lounge and had a nice meal with some more wine. Gradually, familiar Showcase (cast and crew) faces merged into (or is it "with"?) the bar and so the night began. Enter Dootsie and Co. with a "time for pub crawl" announcement, and off we went (well half of us did – the other half sat glued to seats in hotel bar). I suppose it was rather comfy in hotel, but, well we had a mission – to sample the delights of the Berwick nightlife.

And what a sample that was. A real precedent was set; a moment of history worth recording; a pinch on the arm to check it was really happening - Dootsie walked through the main door of a pub and walked out again because it was too dodgy. And we all followed. Our leader was afraid, so we could not dare enter or at least we would do so at our own risk. In all probability we were just not drunk or incoherent enough because Group two of the pub crawl (who we’d left behind playing pool in the last pub) managed to have a drink in said establishment without so much as a blink of the eye or a visible movement of the Adam’s apple.

Joan, of course, made her mark in the next pub by complaining (as she wiped sawdust from her feet and spit from her hair), that they didn’t do Chardonnay, or any type of wine for that matter. And why were the glasses all pint size or straight shaped….?. We nearly made it out of aforementioned pub without further incident until a nice gentleman approached me and asked if I wanted to buy any crabs? Well, I’ve never had crabs before and I certainly didn’t ever envisage that I would have to purchase them (well, doesn’t one somehow acquire these things if one is unfortunate enough?) so I told him so – politely, of course. He went off muttering something about pate and pickles and why didn’t he just sell plastic red roses like the punters in Edinburgh pubs did.

Found a pub, after sampling a few in between, for which both groups settled. It looked different in daylight next day (when Dootsie took us back to visit it at 11.00 am sharp for a pint or three of cider), but then again so did Berwick. Lots of lovely shops – especially the one that had a pair of BIG pants in the window the night before which had mysteriously become an embroidered tablecloth draped in a folded kind of way over a chair by the time daylight arrived. It sort of reminded me of the Mr Ben adventures in a magical shop…..

Singalongs were in full swing when we returned to hotel. Don’t recall much other than needing, and by this time, wanting, to go to bed. Joan and I departed to cries of "lightweights" (at which point I thought I might hang around a bit longer, ‘cos that title felt quite good. Well, with my stature, last time I was called that was at primary school and even then it was relative to the teacher). Anyway, all I can say to those who cried lightweights is – where were you at breakfast at 8.00 am the following morning whilst we tucked into a full English eh? Eh??

Saturday passed in a shopping, walking, eating lunch and spending-money-generally kind of a way. Beautiful day and lovely scenery, until I got back to hotel and met a rather grey looking Lesley on the stairs. I don’t know if she was coming up or down and I don’t think she did either. Then the memories of chants of "lightweight" came back to me and I remembered one of the guilty parties. I had to stop myself from saying to her "bet you’re eating your words now" ‘cos I suspect they’d have come right back up again like the rest of her eaten stuff presumably did.

Fancy dress time arrived on Saturday night – and what a parade of costumes. We had the cast of Wizard of Oz with a rather handsome scarecrow and a dodgy looking tin man (although Lesley had transformed from the earlier grey colour to a warm brown – at least for a while - as the lion). Joining them was part of the cast of Grease with the "before" and "after" Sandy and Danny (although by the end of the night they all looked like the "after" version). Dootsie was even more terrifying than usual as Darth Maul and Kate’s tits exploded with strategically placed balloons as Lara Croft. Harry Potter was great (although we could have done with some of Tricia’s magic later in the night when our team was disastrously trying to pass balloons between necks and just about every other body part). Some people just came as themselves really, including Malcy aka Rab C Nesbit and Joan & moi aka Ab. Fab’s Patsy and Eddie. Johnny was fabby as a St Trinian’s schoolgirl, and Alistair – um, we think he was Captain Kirk but, well, we didn’t really get a chance to speak to him as he lay comatose on a table in the corner all night. Suffice to say, he was certainly from another planet.

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Lara (Bitch) Croft (Bitch) won the fancy dress as the best dressed and Andy McGarry won as the worst dressed. Given that he came as the invisible man, I think that he should have won the biggest-stretch-of-the-imagination category. McGarry, invisible? Yeah, right!!

Karaoke followed in hot pursuit and there were some memorable moments (if I could remember) but I think the prize would have to go to Johnny and Susan’s version of Meatloaf’s "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". What a brave and soulful attempt Johnny, but you were in good company as theatre people, well, we have good imaginations and are able to see through characterisations with a little creativity and artistic license. Methinks it was Meatloaf after having been to 10,000 sessions of Rosemary Conley followed by the "I feel strongly that I am a reincarnation of a little girl" phase of Meatloaf’s life.

Where would we be without the obligatory party games, and what a host Malcy turned out to be. Karaoke operator extraordinaire and gamesmaster-magnifique, organised the lot. I was so delighted when he awarded me (for our team) an extra 10 points for "bearing yer breests", but equally deflated (not literally) when, at the end of the night, our team were falling behind in the points stakes, he offered to double the points if I’d put them away…!

Well "3 o’clock in the morning, and it looks like it’s gonna be another sleepless night" as the song goes, and it sure was. Back in our room, and looking across the twin beds at Patsy laid on her back snoring, with her previously well-coiffured blond beehive flopped over the dressing table, her fishnets looking more like nae-nets, and her cigarette holder (which I had previously thought – until she had it in her mouth – was a tampon applicator) lying forlornly on her pillow, I reflected on the weekend’s events. I had arrived a SWAV and was returning as a fully-fledged Showcase member. What an honour. I was now just like the rest of them. And I thought of "them" and remembered balloons and broomsticks, and dark cloaks with scarlet makeup, and men dressed as women, and scarecrows and tin men and Captain Kirk (I hope he hadn’t actually died at that table in the corner – no-one thought to check), and crawling between legs and wrapping string round and through and in between and up an down any conceivable orifice in a bid to win points. I then heard some of them returning to their rooms, banging, ranting, falling, singing and generally raving up the corridors, shouting "ssshhhh" as they did so. And then I thought, I’m one of them? At thirtysomething and a responsible, sensible adult mother of two, I’m one of them? Yep indeedee, I was – and how good it felt.


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