Oxfringe 2008, a week of literary-fringe nonsense and hilarity, starts this weekend. Sadly, I won’t be around for the first few events: I’m off playing the stag in Bruges until late Sunday, along with (among others) co-organizer hatmandu. I hope bluedevi isn’t too narked by his absence.
I dare say mine will pass largely unnoticed, as I had to drop out of organizing this year (“yes, we know: do stop harping on about it”). Without me the whole event seems to have gone stratospheric, with around fifty or so events compared to last year’s half a dozen or so; several groups other than Oxfringe and On The Fringe involved; and last-minute, disorganized local and national press interest. If all goes well I’ll at least be compering the April Follies Open Mic Night this year, much as I did last year only without the pre-MCing gallop around Oxford. I’ve no doubt my presence will guarantee a 2007-like lack of media interest.
One event you mustn’t miss—says someone who is doing, unavoidably—is Albert Pantygirdle, pulling into the Burton Taylor on Saturday. He’ll have Looby along as his special guest, who has ironically finally agreed to come down from the wilds of Lancaster just at the point when I’m apparently escaping to the continent. It’s nothing personal, Looby: honest.