@Mistress Cynica: Not to be nit-picky, darling, but it’s “Move your bloomin’ arse!” I played Pickering in that show once. It’s a lot of fun if you don’t mind being sung at (the part only exists so that the others can tell him things the author wants the audience to know). And I had very good clothes including a frock coat that provoked a good deal of comment on the width of my shoulders compared to the narrowness of my hips. That was before everything spread and sort of met in the middle. The Ascot Gavotte is one of those blessed times when the chorus has to do all the work and you can’t be roped into the number to boost the tenors because you have to make a big deal entrance with Eliza right after it’s over.

And yes, my working life has been that trivial. Others may work to end world hunger, I worry about quick changes.

Oh well.

And I heartily agree on everything said so far about Bono.

Mosh pits, well, I haven’t been near one since an early-eighties Husker Du concert. I think that’s why I’m still alive. That, and because alcohol acts as a preservative (until it doesn’t).

At a Rancid concert I saw the most amazing thing, the band encouraged the mosh pit to start roaming, the mosh pit moved en masse around in a big circle, out into the crowd and then back in front, very fun. Saw a dude dive from the top of a speaker stack into it, at least 15 feet, I am amazed people didn’t die.

Nabisco, good on you for setting those jackasses right. I was in a mosh pit a couple of years ago, when some dipshit decided at the beginning of the concert that he wanted to crowd surf. Of course, nobody supported him, and down he came, kicking me in the face in the process. He was immediately hustled out of there. Moran.