Don't you hate it when an event doesn't live up to it's promise? Last night a group of us went to see Closer to Heaven at the Arts Theatre. The new Jonathan Harvey and Pet Shop Boys musical was meant to be the highlight of the Summer season but is an immense piece of stinking, steaming crap. Terrible acting, a suprisingly lame script from the brilliant mind of Gimme Gimme Gimme and ridiculous choreography made for bulky inflexible steroid queens. I spent the first act offended by its dull dull dull script then the second trying not to giggle during the high-school-monologue-death-scene acting "I cry these tears for you, I cry these tears for me, I cry these tears for all of us." Bloody hell, why not cry for those of us who paid 28 quid for an evening of pre-pubescent gay teen improvisation set to badly programmed drum loops. If nothing else, you learn that apparently you can convert from straight to gay if your drug dealer blows you in the toilet whilst your girlfriend watches on the security monitors. Apparently being in a k-hole is like watching Jonathan Livingston Seagull on an uncalibrated monitor. Did we really need to set all of the insipid gay stereotypes to pounding electronic music? It needs to be way more camp to be laughably bad until then it's less fun than the sound of a drag queen's fingernails scrapping across a chalkboard. Stay far away from it.