Abbamania!
Ooooo I hear you gasp; Abbamania! What the hell is Abbamania? Well, dear fellows, Abbamania is a tribute group to Swedish popstars, Abba, and I took my girlfriend to go see them last night at the Liverpool Empire. It’s a West End show apparently, and was all very exciting. There were a total of eight fireworks, and some nice lights which were sometimes pink!
The show consisted of four swedish types, two girls, two guys, in Abba costumes. They sung, and played piano, and the homosexual on the left pretended to play the guitar. The real band was behind them in the darkness, one of whom was rather worryingly shielded behind bullet-proof glass. So while ‘Agentha’, ‘Frida’, ‘Benny’ and ‘Bjorn’ did their thing, the real musicians toiled away in the darkness. Minus a point there for being mean to the talent.
On the whole it was a very good evening. The main annoyance for me was the rest of the damn audience. During ‘Super Trooper’ it was suggested that maybe audience members could wave their arms in time (except it was suggested in the most hyperactive faux-Swedish way possible). The stupid woman in front took this as a sign to regress to the level of an infant idiot and flail around as though she was on fire. And then the women in front of her stood up with her equally rotund chum and I couldn’t see a damn thing, which meant I had to stand up and then clearly I looked a bit gay, what with being male and standing at an Abba concert. So that meant I had to hold onto my girlfriend to prove to the hundreds who didn’t care that I was straight. And then there was an old man across from me who started doing some sort of finger-pointing, gun-shooting, dying-cat voodoo in time with the music, and I couldn’t concerntrate on the show because I was too busy being amused by the gentleman’s wife’s dismay at her idiot husband. Oh, and every thirteen seconds an usher the size of a building came running into the crowd to ‘quietly and discreetly’ tell someone to stop taking photographs. Naturally everyone obliged because I bet that usher could punch a hole through a man’s head, but still he kept bounding past me to go shout at the audience. Boo to you, big usher. You’re worse than the stupid windmill arms woman. The show must therefore lose a point for having an audience.
At one point during the evening the crowd was split in half for a pointless bit in the middle of ‘Money, Money, Money’ which, cleverly, would involve ‘Bjorn’ and ‘Agnetha’ throwing money into the crowd. I was only slightly put out that I was on the top shelf, and if they threw coins up there they’d have to throw them so hard they could potentially kill someone. So the left hand side got ‘Agnetha’, the leggy blonde, and we got ‘Bjorn’, the hapless homosexual in a terrible toupée. He proceeded to enthusiastically claim that we were clearly the better half at singing, only to have a circus-type retort from ‘Agnetha’. I’ll be honest, I was ignoring ‘Bjorn’. Eventually the clever segue between ‘Money, Money, Money’ and money became clear. They threw literally two pounds into the audience, some of which I thought may have become embedded in elderly skulls. Hulk-usher came thundering past again at this point to shout at an elderly couple with their Polaroid camera. Minus one again for this man for resorting to riot crowd control techniques. As if an elderly couple who most likely holiday in Dorset are going to commit gross copyright infringement with a Polaroid for their nephew. And minus a point for ‘Bjorn’ not giving me any damn money!
Plus one point for ‘Bjorn’ wearing huge heels all night. That’s how a real man does it! Not like ‘Frida’ who had sensible shoes on, or ‘Benny’, who resembled Tony Blackburn in the 80s. Respect where it’s due. Minus one point for making me think of Tony Blackburn. How very dare you.
Minus a point for the distinct lack of ‘MANIA‘. We struggled to see any ‘MANIA‘ anywhere. We even looked under the seats. No ‘MANIA‘ there, either. At best, I’d describe it as a hullabaloo, or even a hubbub. ‘ABBAHUBBUB‘ has a ring to it…plus a point if they change the name to that. If not, still minus a point for the lack of ‘MANIA‘. Bastards.
I suppose this has been quite a negative entry, and I don’t want to leave you with the idea that this is some kind of terrible atrocity. It was a very enjoyable night out which a good deal of laughs, some of which came from the performance! Plus one for having binoculars that cost 50p to use! Put your money in the slot and you can use said binoculars to look at ‘Agnetha’ close up! Or ‘Bjorn’…your choice…weirdo. But yes, plus one point for magnified cleavage.
The spastic voodoo man found the binoculars very useful…minus a point for perverts. Needless to say I was not allowed binoculars by my girlfriend and my wallet.
Another minus point was the seating. My knees were permanently lodged in Mrs. Windmill’s beehive. If I moved them away, then the usher from Hell would undoubtedly trip and then tell me to leave or kill me. Minus a point for being a theatre.
Right, post over. I’m tired of this. Basically, visit www.abbamania.com for a better idea of what the show was like. But ignore the part where it says ‘ever wondered what it would be like to see Abba perform?’…trust me, Abba was not secretly from England! Minus one point for being fraudulent, and minus another thirteen for those goddamn terrible Swedish accents!
Plus a hundred points for making people dance though…that’s the sign of a good show.
Minus a thousand points for making me dance.
Bah.
How (not) smart are you? Seriously?
As you may not know, I play scrabble over facebook with various people, and I’m rather moderate at nearly beat my jammy mother most of the time, so it’s pretty much always fun.
Anyway, I was checking the scores when a most alarming banner came up and told me that ‘someone‘ has called me ‘a foolish dolt‘ because I cannot beat their IQ score of ‘100′. Naturally I threw caution to the wind and signed instantly to the £6 a minute text messaging service that would test my IQ for the minimal price of £50! Of course I did! This very real person was a serious threat to my ego!
DISCLAIMER: That last sentence was a lie.
I halted at the banner part, and laughed my arse off until I wept with mirth. What are these people thinking? Do they really think that the above story is likely to occur?
Actually, I may have jumped the gun. Of course it happens, otherwise they wouldn’t have the funds required to advertise on Facebook. This induces a real fear in me. Are people really that incredibly dense?
If so then there is no choice but a global thermonuclear strike to banish the idiocy at the cost of the non-idiocy. I’m sorry, non-idiots, but for humanities sake you have to die.
