075. Shag’s Musical Diary

Well that Sydney symphony was a complete wash-out. I don’t like to bag conductors for the odd baton drop and missed beats, but I’m seriously concerned about Maestro Peyper. It even got me wondering what the cause of his nervousness was: maybe he is the secret source for all Nicholas Hagar’s scandal in #DirtyMusic. Would explain a lot of the boer-ish emails.

I didn’t like to mention my suspicions to bloody Chris Christopher because he’d be all over it like a lawyer on an ambulance. I’ve got my hands full with this weekend’s reprise of Girt By Sea in Auckland, and half the bloody players complaining about ridiculous little things like broken bones.

Will have to smuggle a couple of slabs of the libation liquid and a box of Maketu Lamb & Mint past the concierge, or I’ll starve to death on the JAFA hotel rations. Why do they only refill the minibars once a day?

Yours in a sulk


About Ned Davy

By hokey, the big fella’s tipped into his 50s. A rangy loose forward in his prime, good with the ball in hand, but rarely up with the play any more.
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