TADHGH BARWELL O’CONNOR reveals what really goes on in the ADC soundbox…
Whoah! Wait a minute boy. Slow that thought down. Explain.
“Sexie Techie” perhaps sounds like a neologism to those of you unblemished by the intrigue found just behind the doors of theatres around Cambridge. These theatres, the very seats you sit your round little paying arses down on, act as locations for illicit rendezvous for the more technically minded among us. “Techies” are people (though I’m not always sure they’re human), mainly, but not exclusively, male, mostly scientists/mathmos/compscis – (exquisitely lovable nerds) who soon after arriving in Freshers’ week, invade the ADC club room, instantly making it their base camp. Few ever make it out again until dazed they see sunlight when unceremoniously forced to accept degrees from some toff in a big gown.
This kind; you know’em, head-to-toe in black, various implements stuck to them which look like an innocent kitchen spatula to you and me, but are actually a very useful thingamajig-whatsit, and you will be told, if you are ever foolish enough to posit a question (Never posit a question!), it’s reinforced with this/that/and the other special thing you’ve never heard of nor can you pronounce which makes it a super-dooper-extra-special-wonderkid version. Obviously.
No, techies, are an odd lot. Then again who at Cambridge isn’t? Art students go round dressed in colours that somehow clash with themselves; boaties, well…lyrca fetishes and caloussed hands make for interesting nights in, or so the tales go. Lawyers have that odd penchant for wearing power suits, pencil skirts, with their hair drawn back into severe buns, while probably hiding handcuffs and a whip in that snazzy little briefcase.
But back to techie-philia. Every clique has its stereotype. We are all members of our own cliques and understand that the stereotypes are more often than not wrong. Techies are just the same. Yes, they may look like unwashed, semi-gothic cave dwelling throwbacks, but actually they are all scarily literate, sometimes even interesting people, and as a group I find I like them more than most. What’s so intriguing about them is their up until now, almost entirely unnoticed weird mating rituals.
‘Techie’ and ‘sexy’ are words never seen, heard or imagined together. This is because species naturally breed with their own kind. Lemurs may take the occasional fancy to a monkey, who wouldn’t; they may even after a few too many fermented fruits have mistakenly, I repeat mistakenly, spent the night with an orang-utan. But 98.763% of the time they hang out with lemurs. This is the case with techies. They naturally inbreed and subsequently the gory details rarely leek out, unlike other things. Or so I’m told.
Once this state of affairs was highlighted to me I suddenly knew I had to discover more. My obvious fact hunting ground was the ADC Bar. Haunt of gaunt thesps and the more numerous wannabe thesps (aka the paying public) as well as the techie massiv. A choice G&T bought for the possibly already tipsy techie-phile and the information poured out like the water through that dam before that stupid little twerp went and stuck his finger in.
Often distant admirer of the more homosapien resemblances found in the techie mating pool, a beautiful smiley female thesp, said she wondered why more girls didn’t choose to pounce. “What woman doesn’t like a guy who knows how to handle large, stiff pieces of wood?” she quipped (after just one G&T), “They have the biggest tools I’ve ever seen” said coquettishly (two G&Ts and I’ve now realised they were doubles), “There is no better place than the scene dock, it’s been extra especially designed for getting down and dirty in.” (three G&Ts, floor, – back up for number four.) Amelia, a devilish redhead piped up about the hidden locations of these scandalous trysts. “The lights stay on the actors onstage, techies are left in the dark, hidden areas of the theatre, and they’re often very hot. Naturally when young, fit people get together in dark, warm places…”(she momentarily stares into the middle distance leaving me feeling distinctly uncomfortable) “Sorry” (she bites her lower lip) “I must have lost my train of thought” (cheeky smile.) Well I think we all know where that train was going don’t we? That’s right – to techieroticaville.
Concerned as I was for this shocking situation I tracked down two heads of societies representing the rights of the techie-kind in Cambridge. Adam Wood, ADC president, stated that as far as he was aware no international UN sexual health or genetics rules had been broken but he would look into the matter seriously. (So stare at something with a grumpy face then…?) Sophie, the world’s smallest despot, leader of a secret society, when posed the question: “Just what do those techies get up to in the fly galleries?” demurely dropped her gaze to the floor, placed her right arm squarely on her hip, rounded her shoulders and then straightened her back, raising her head to her fullest height (she still wouldn’t be able to see over a medium sized kitchen cabinet) and licked her upper lip. Then slowly, drawing me closer with anticipation (this movement had taken about 45 seconds so far) she rounds her fully pouted, blood red lips, and in the lowest whisper I’ve ever strained to hear, utters “No Comment”. She bats her eyelashes and is gone. I left feeling dazed, tired and ever so slightly smutty, my hopes for the Pulitzer prize winning expose dashed I slunk home.
So there you have it folks.
Advice for the future:
1) Apparently black is the new black for techies (all other colours have been outlawed – dissenters frequently disappear into the realms of college drama and are rarely seen again.)
2) The hemp chair (whatever that is) needs a thorough cleaning shampoo sesh from what I’ve been told – don’t sit on it you WILL catch something.
3) Drinks are astoundingly cheap at the ADC Bar – but beware, this is a double edged sword, too many will leave you open to snipe attacks from the techie bands that roam freely at night.
4) When those actors gesture into the auditorium in the bows it’s not for the audience to clap themselves, it’s a silent plea for someone to make the techies in the sound and lighting boxes at the back of the auditorium put their bloody clothes back on.
5) Go on, give a techie a go, they are really quite strangely lovable, and they won’t bite – unless you ask them nicely.