I was waiting outside the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre last night to see Kneehigh's wonderful 'The Wild Bride', when I was approached by a Rastafarian guy in his late 40s. I was eating my sandwiches and my shopping bag was on the ground and, although I was only metres from the theatre's entrance, I felt trapped. He was built like a whippet, nearly six foot tall and with a piratical, five-tooth smile.
He probably heard my heart sink as he walked up to me with a cheery welcome, which was met by my "What do you want?", accompanied by a world-weary smile. As soon as they were out of my mouth, I regretted those words. Cue a five-minute lecture from him about everything that was wrong with the white man, the differences between British society and African culture, the peacefulness of the Rastafarian culture, and whether or not I thought that he looked like a robber. It was loud enough to heard by passers-by and impassioned enough to make me feel threatened. I tried to diffuse the tension by asking him how the difference in cultures had come about, but he wasn't buying it and accused me of trying to be "clever". Which was clever of him. Well, so what did he want?
Well, no, he wasn't a robber... but as it happened, he was on his way to South Kensington and he needed to top up his Oyster. Oh, right.
He told me that I could say 'yes' or I could say 'no'. Strangely enough, 'no' didn't feel like a wise option. As I gave him a pound for your homeward journey. he walked off with a smile and a parting shot to me about how I was born on the wrong side of the fence, or something like that. The moral of this story? You tell me.
The show was wonderful, by the way - energetic and very inventive - so, in that respect, not unlike my new friend en route to South Ken.
http://www.lyric.co.uk/whats-on/production/the-wild-bride/
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