Finally...

... a show where my inner Anglophile can come out to play. A play where I can't be teased by the Irishmen for my Union Jack purse, wallet, and pin.

We're thinking the "Usual Banshee Crowd" will be shocked by the protestant-ness of this show, used (as they are) to our traditional Irish fare. Let alone, the mayhem that happens before their eyes.

We gave Dan a couple of tattoos for our final dress rehearsal last night and as we were pulling the paper off of his "FTP" or "Fuck the Pope" tattoo, he mentioned that his good catholic grandmother was undoubtedly rolling over in her grave. As his character's an ex-con, though, he needs a FTP tattoo. Or, so says his friend from Belfast who watched a rehearsal a few days ago to make sure we were doing things properly. He also has a UDA (That's Ulster Defense Association) shield on one bicep and a flaming heart with "Brenda" on the other. Nice. Especially since he strips down to his boxers (or a towel, depending on who wins the debate) you really get to admire his ink. The FTP stretches across the back of his shoulder blades. We're just hoping he doesn't lose the towel in front of his "mom" and the whole Banshee crowd.

Just another night at the Banshee!