To the Theatre

    

You might or might not remember from an earlier post that on our first day here Alana got to slap an Irishman for a play's promotional. It was a long time ago, I know; I cannot believe that I have been here for over a month. Well, this play The Boyz of Harcourt Street is now showing, so after Alana consulted with the actor that she had slapped, we decided to go on Wednesday. The show was to start at 8:30, so Alana and I made our way to the city centre at about seven and we arrived at Smock Alley a half hour later. The theatre is quite old and originally opened in 1662. It is situated along the Liffey River so I have often run past it. When we arrived though, Alana and I immediately realized that something was going on.

There were limos and security and a red carpet of sorts. Walking inside (and let me tell you, I was not sure we were going to be able to get inside) we made our way to the box office. We bought our tickets for the play, and decided to ask what exactly was going on. Apparently the Best of Dublin Awards sponsored by 98fm was going on and all of Ireland’s celebrities were there (not that we recognized any of them…). The Best of Dublin Awards honours Dublin’s best, for example: Best Landmark, Best Family Spot, Best Pint. “Did you see those identical twin lads on your way in?” the box office seller asked us as we talked to her.

“Yes,” we answered confused. We had past them alright, and they were currently getting their picture taken against the red carpet behind us.

“Those are Irish pop singers, very famous,” she told us, and Alana and I immediately turned to look at them. They definitely looked like pop singers, whose fan demographic was 12 to 15 year old girls. For a long time Alana and I stood there, debating whether we should ask for a picture or not.

“We don’t even know who they are,” she argued, while I thought they really wouldn’t care, that they probably loved getting their photo taken. Eventually we chickened out and left, going to a pub down the street since the play wasn’t for another hour. On the way out I snapped a picture of them as sneakily as I could. While we were there we asked some Irish guys who were sitting at the pub with us if they knew who they Irish pop singers were, and they immediately knew who we were talking about.

“Jedward,” they had said with disgust. “They are like Justin Bieber, but worse.” Alana and I could not figure out how someone could be worse than Justin Bieber, but a quick Wikipedia search told us that they had been on British X Factor.

At 8:30, Alana and I were allowed into a side theatre since the main one was being used for the awards. It was small, only about 50 seats, but decent. There was no stage, no set, no props. The ‘dance comedy’ as it was advertised, had a cast of three, with another person creating music and sound effects on the side. It was basically making fun of the people who go to Harcourt Street clubs, which is notorious in Dublin for crazy and wild parties and drinking; the clubs there are truly infamous. It was terribly funny, very raunchy, but entertaining. We left having laughed for an hour straight.