I saw Mary Poppins last week. I’ve always loved musicals, a by-product of my movie mania. Grease, Chicago, Oliver – I’ve seen ’em all, from West End to Broadway baby. But come Friday night, I had to admit that I’m either more cynical than a g-string in a retirement home, or I’m too old for this shit (to be said like Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon).

Not only was it more gay than Rock Hudson in a Doris Day movie, but it was how I imagine my insanity might look – maniacal, melodious and somewhat sinister.

Everyone is singing and dancing, tra lah lah, and a statue comes to life. Oh my! What wonder, to see it frolic and dance so! What magic! What joy!

Cut to: some dude in a nude body stocking, a fig leaf over his fragilistic … luring the pretty children to come out and play. Um … ex-squeeze me? Baking powder?

‘Mary, move yo’ passive-aggressive ass, before we have another court case! Spit spot.’

Meanwhile, I know all children are an alleged miracle, but that little girl was like an off-Broadway version of Chucky, with the mouth of Steve Tyler (cree-py). And they hacked the story like it was Steve Buscemi in frikkin Fargo; bringing in a new character and altering the songs. Don’t get post-modern with my Poppins, mutherfuckers. I aint down with it.

That being said, I quite enjoyed myself. Wucs. My mood was practically perfect in every way, and a part of me still responds to the existential acid trip. My mate NASA (a girl impervious to heat, cold or nuclear fall-out) and I then went on to our usual – a club with sticky floors, wanker DJs and endless 80s music.

Pause for warm joo-joo pleasure and Judd Nelson air-punch.

Which is where the pink wig comes in, mais oui. But wait, the post is ending… what the frik. Alas! It’s an anti-climatic tale for the morrow my friends. As the boss doth lurk, so shall it be.

Watch this hot-pink space, yo.

Published by the wuc

I'm a chick living in Australia, working for the man. I hate office work with a passion usually reserved for James Cameron, but somehow I ended up with a career behind a desk, stapling my forehead at random intervals.

42 thoughts on “Supercalifragilisticexpiali-fuck-it.

  1. I swear to god…I have to stop reading your blog at work. The laughter coming from my office is starting to make people wonder. JUDD NELSON AIR PUNCH INDEED!

  2. Haha this is such a great post! You’re hilarious! I’ve never seen the Mary Poppin’s musical but this definitely made me want to check it out, definitely amused!

  3. So…
    First of all, thanks so much for liking one of my posts… Not my best work, but to each their own… And because I’m interested to see what those who like my stuff write for themselves, I’ve been exploring your blog…
    NICE…I don’t feel I’m even in the same league….
    At the risk of being accused of ‘stalking’, I shall now sign up, post haste, lest the urge move on to more mundane things, such as breathing, or food…
    ANYONE who appreciates the greatness of Fozzie Bear is okay in my book, and, I suspect, quite a few other books, as well…
    Keep up the good work…

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