I seem to have become a bit of an unofficial groupie for pint-sized, Birmingham-based theatre company The Happiness Patrol, with their minimum fuss, maximum imagination approach. And Tales of Terror was pure storytelling at it's most stripped-down. Just a teller, an audience and that strange magical hold that a story exerts over its listeners. (And the occasional coffin.)

Inspired, as ever, by Twitter.

More specifically, this tweet from mandyrose1:

"Anyone got any good news I'm fed up of listening/reading about the budget, credit crunch, global warming, death, bombs, pensions help me!!"

I've heard this sentiment echoed from many people recently; across various channels of conversation. (Not just social media, I must add. I do occasionally associate with real flesh and blood too. If I must ... ) It seems to be what a lot of people are feeling at the moment. With my Journalism 2.0, (or indeed 3.0) head on, I immediately started thinking "Hear, hear! Why are we subjected to the same depressing repetitive drudgery from the media all the time? It's time they actually serviced the communities they broadcast/publish to and give them the news they want. Or, hell, even let them create it!"

Eternal Light by Rambert Dance Company. Photo by Hugo Glendinning

I wanted to explore this for two reasons:

1) As a regular dance reviewer and writer I'm a little worried that maybe I don't 'get' it then either; besides a fair amount of dance classes and watching performances, I've never had any formal technical background in dance. Perhaps to really 'get' dance you need this? It's non-verbal communication - and like any other language, in order to understand it you need to be familiar with all its vocabulary.

2) I'm a bit confused about what there is to 'get' - or what 'getting it' really means. One of my favourite dance quotes comes from the amazingly talented US choreographer Alvin Ailey (I'm massively paraphrasing here, because I can't find the quote anywhere): "People are always saying they don't 'get' dance. What is there to get? Some people come on stage and leap around for a bit. That's dance." This comes from one of the current greatest choreographers in the world.

It's extremely rare that I'll ever get irate about politics; and this is probably the only blog post I will ever do that mentions the words 'Home Office', 'policy document' or 'bureaucratic procedures'. However, I am incensed about the Home Office's 158-page policy document outlining new bureaucratic procedures. The particular document in question here contains new controls over procedures for visiting artists and academics from non-EU countries. The main points of these new guidelines are as follows:

- All non-EU visitors must apply for a visa in person
- They must also supply biometric data, electronic fingerprint scans and a digital photograph
- The host organisation must keep copies of the visitor's passport, their UK biometric card and a history of their contact details
- Individuals must show that they have at least £800 worth of savings; which must have been held for 3 months prior to the date of application
- If the visitor does not turn up to their place of work one day, or their whereabouts are unknown, the host organisation is legally obliged to inform the UK Border Agency

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! "

(Image from TechCrunch)

I thought this howl into the night might be worth exploring, perhaps more articulately, seeing as I love both theatre and Twitter and yet had a strange aversion to them in convergence.

So, Ms Jamieson, seeing as you've thrown down the gauntlet; let me have a stab at your arguments:

Thank you, Mr. Nicholls, I shall have nightmares tonight.

You've got to hand it to Little Earthquake; they're probably the tiniest theatre company in the universe (consisting of Gareth Nicholls; writer/actor/director and um.. that's about it) with the largest appetite for life's biggest questions - or, more often than not, death's. Is there an afterlife? Can we contact the dead? Do hamsters go to heaven? (See Premature Burial)

The Haunting is taking place throughout March in some of the West Midlands' most historical buildings. I've always loved site-specific work; it feels like you're really stepping into the skin of the performance. Tonight, Highbury Hall made space for us in its beautiful Victorian costume for this tale of séance, mediums and spirits.

He was telling me his plans to create some street art on the side of the disused pub opposite the Selfridges building; which sounded amazing. But being the right-on good boy that he is, he wanted to clear it with the council/owners/whichever relevant authority before going about plastering his creation all over the walls.

His plans have not materialised yet. I can only assume that the powers that be forbade it; sadly. Which made me think about the moral/legal stance of street art. Now this isn't going to be a rant against the council/property developers/the law or blinkered approaches to 'urban art'. I realise that if everyone went around spraying whatever they wanted everywhere the whole place would look a mess. Unless, that is, we were all as talented as Dave. Which is kind of the problem - you can't just make 'good' graffiti legal and 'bad' graffiti illegal; not least because who exactly would get to decide what's 'good' and what's 'bad'?

Or indeed; who actually cares? There seems to be a growing selection of geography-based gadgets and applications on the Internet: Google Earth/Maps/Latitude, BrightKite, Geo-tagging etc etc. Personally, I found this initially baffling as to why they were interesting.* Why would anyone care about my current location? Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with place? I put this to fellow Twitterers - with some interesting responses....

*Admittedly, this could be because I have a personal aversion to the concept of 'Geography' in that it was my least favourite subject in school: I'm rubbish at colouring in and have no interest in rocks.

So Judith Lynne Hanna would have us believe. And I'm inclined to agree.

I was having a conversation recently with a colleague about the joy of dance classes. One thing she said really struck me: "It's the kind of thing that you don't realise that you've really missed when you're not doing it." Like a lot of other important but non-urgent things in life it's easy to sideline when you're busy.

I've always loved dance and I've always wondered about its strange, universal potency. In Western culture it's what we instinctively engage in after a few to many: 'let's go out and have a drink and a dance', or at special occasions: parties, carnivals, celebrations. And recently, the nationwide popularity of Strictly Come Dancing shows watching dance is appealing to people of all ages and backgrounds. In other cultures it's an integral - and even compulsory - part of societal life. In some sub-Saharan parts of Africa, people cannot take their place in society without performing certain ritual dances.

A couple of months ago I read an article by .. umm .. someone, in the Sunday Times magazine 'Open Minds' section on ... umm ... something to do with whether an economic downturn might actually be good for us.

Now, annoyingly, I can't remember exactly what was said and I can't find this particular feature anywhere, but here's my very sketchy paraphrase: "A recession might actually be good for us, as it'll stop us relying so much on expensive luxuries that fill our lives. It will bring us back to basics, cause us to think about our priorities, shake us up a bit and make us realise that the best things in life are free. Perhaps we will stop buying things and start being more content with what we've got. Perhaps we will start investing in another way - in our families, our relationships; the things that are actually fundamental to us, but that we don't focus on enough because we're too cluttered up with all this stuff, and too busy and tired running ragged in this Capitalist rat race etc etc."

And so has everyone else. And everything else:

(Just a few of the instances I've come across. I won't bore you with the rest ... )

I mean, it is a bit of a crazy idea, really. "Let's put on a Victorian Gothic classic involving a huge, elaborate palace, a mad prince, thousands of villagers, a plague stalking the countryside, a full orchestra oh, and Death - with but 1 actor, a few boxes and some Cindy dolls!" Mmm yes, let's ...

Taking another trip to Birmingham's most miniature theatre, The Old Joint Stock, to see Birmingham-based and even more miniature theatre company The Happiness Patrol'*s version of Poe's The Masque of the Red Death I was psychologically prepared for something that was either going to be ludicrous or a bit flipping clever. We all know it's a fine line.

* They're so mini and new that I can't even give you a link yet - their website will be up and running in January. For the time being there's a bit of info on sister company Little Earthquake's site.

Whoo (whoo!) first they catch your attention ...

Then they pound your ears with the fastest, trickiest and profoundest lyrics that you might ever hear rapped. Then they spin around, jump up and down, pick each other up and push each other off stage. Then they inform you that this is their first gig in ten years.
Then they're rapping about Jesus.

- WHAT?!

And that's when it starts getting surreal ...

I mean, who actually goes to the theatre at 2 p.m. on a school day? I thought I'd take myself off to Birmingham's most miniature theatre, the Old Joint Stock, and find out what crazed kinds of social misfits hide themselves in the gloom of an upstairs pub room to watch obscure play-lets instead of going out to earn a decent crust like most civilised 9-to-5ers. To my disappointment, the audience was full of normal looking, decent members of the public.

(What? Theatre in the daylight? On a schoolday? The madness...)