Gigs Ahead: Furthest From The Sea Festival – Derby – Sat 29th June

Posted on By Captain Pigheart

Derby Gets Awesome

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Coming up this Saturday – from 11am-5pm an entirely FREE festival sprawling over Derby’s Market Place with music, comedy, dance, arts and more! It’s the Furthest from the Sea Festival !

I’ll be there on the comedy stage as Captain Pigheart sometime between 11 and 1.30, then later we’re closing the gig as MissImp with Martin and David. In between times I’ll be running free improvised comedy workshops – drop in and have some fun. The workshop schedule will be available on the day, but they’re likely to be about half an hour long and lots of ’em.

There are too many acts to list easily but many are friends and family of the gigs I’ve done in Derby and Nottingham with MissImp and the Captain. Karl and The Marx Brothers, Misk Hills Mountain Rambler and The DH Lawrence Skiffle Show, Eleanor Lee, and MILLIONS more, including about half the folk who were at Knickerbocker Glorious and even more comedy folk playing for 6 hours continuously than you can shake a stick at. Even a big stick.

Follow on Twitter @furthestfromthe and use hashtag #ffts2013 to talk about it!

Did I mention it’s free? It’s free. More incredibly varied entertainment is also available: Belly Dancing, Capoeira, Poetry Tree, Bling Up Your Bike, craft stalls, merchandise… it just don’t stop.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z_3byFilnl0&w=560&h=315]

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Autofiction: Betrayal

Posted on By Captain Pigheart

Failure On A Hurtful Scale

Once more disappointed; once more betrayed. Ever am I fooled by camaraderie and sense to do the right thing, to commit to a thing. I do what is required, not what is asked of me, for those who ask do not know what is required. In the gaps of their ignorance lie duty and value. And yet we are betrayed by the blind stupidity that comes with ignorance, fear supplanting reason, caution superimposed over the faint outline of purpose. Without a grasp of the stakes we are betrayed by a fawning authority, irrationally bound to its masters.

Fear and hope only pierce the veil of self-interest with vain, glancing blows; easily diverted to further an imaginary cause of ego.

Twisting In The Wind

Where does it leave us? We lay our case, annotate the quiddities for the simplest of readers, only to find it rejected under the banner of baseless dread and supposed authority. If we are failed, ought we not protest? If we are misled, ought we not seek direction? If we are betrayed, ought we not rebel? Apparently not.

Our craven leaders fear leadership, revealing the cowardice common to their kind – keen to rebuke, batter and bully their dependent serfs; faced with a righteous cause to lead they fail, fall twisting; pathetic, in turmoil of servitude to a loathing cause that cares not for their supplication nor their pretended service. In desire to offer a shiny apple they undermine their position, reveal themselves rotten and worthless, unable to assert their strength or support their servants, and so we are left adrift; unsupported; abandoned.

Cut Out Your Tongue

Our silence is expected, demanded; demeaning. The incompetence, the cowardice, the prejudice lie elsewhere; not with us. Yet who bears the brunt of idiotic action? Why, us of course. My fears are not your fears, my pretence is not yours. You wear a mask which colours you foolish, not resolute, not brave, not wise – in opposition to your clear belief.

You are weak; broken; pitiful – yet I have not the pity to spare you. Contempt wells within me, its expression lost in a fugue of bewildered shock – every action you undertake shows you failing; a constant at last in your behaviour.

Every strength you imagine you possess is a weakness, a failed stand supplanted by trite and banal betrayal of those whose loyalty you demand.

This is a fictional account of something that might have happened somewhen to somebody. Or not.