I was gutted I couldn't make Saturday night's east end PunkPurim extravaganza - and here it is written up in the the Guardian - Jewish hipsters and sacred cows.
It was in my diary, and my peops were going and everything, but I had a sudden incidence of scary back pain, and I knew that standing in a heaving bar with three hundred of my closest unzerer (bad use of yiddish?) would not best please my delicate L4/L5 back issue. So I took some valium (as a muscle relaxant, you understand, which on top of the afternoon's B52s had me delirious as a bubble gum house) and ended up with something of a boudoir soiree with R and D. With chocolate.
The people I know who went have given it variously great and not-so-great reviews (but then that's the Jewish disease, to some degree) but frankly something that's (a) not in North London, (b) doesn't have a ticket price, (c) is a radical mishmash of weird stuff and (d) isn't organised by an existing Jewish body and (e) isn't obsessed with the numbers game is already making it, in my book.
So well done to Joseph (sorry I didn't reply to your email) and the crew, and I can't wait - back permitting - till the next one.
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