Jesus Christ! It sure was hot!

We went to see the latest stage performance of Jesus Christ Superstar last Sunday. The one with a spice girl in it, Mel B or is it C, I don’t know.

It must be nearly 40 years now since we last saw it on stage in London, as a young couple in beads, flares and patchouli oil, with not a care in the world. Mrs N and I had a couple of days there one hot summer when first married, and were totally entranced by all that was going on at that time. We returned home having spent every penny we had in the world.

So, would it live up to our expectations, after all we were there at the beginning.

Well, the music and singing was just as powerful as I remembered, with some brilliant guitar work from two young lads who were probably 20 years away from being born when it was first performed. The vibrancy and energy of the dance routines was just as good , and the special effects were ‘awesome’ as my grandkids would say.

I was a little disappointed with the modern day setting though, and  would have preferred it to have been in its original ‘biblical’, form. The background of last year’s city riots, wasn’t really a big enough political theme to portray an oppressed occupied nation, and Pontius Pilot as a judge just didn’t work, I think he was a bit more powerful a figure than that.

All in all, it was a great evening that whisked us back 40 years for a couple of hours, as we sang along to every tune.

Something happened that evening however, to reminded me of the need to live a good life if I wasn’t to end up in that burning inferno down below.

No, it wasn’t that I had some sort of  Damascene conversion during the concert, it was because the bloody heating on the bus was broken and couldn’t be turned off. We had to travel two and a half-hours, both there and back, set on gas mark 6, and emerged from the bus each time like basting turkeys. Talk about hot, if that’s a taste of what Hell's like, then I promise never to put another foot wrong dear lord.