One for the stalls, please

Last weekend Posh Paul gave me a free ticket for Pain and the Itch at the Royal Court Theatre. It was very nice of him and all that, but basically it’s just straight people yelling at each other for two and a half hours and if I wanted to listen to that I’d leave my windows open or go and sit in the middle of the High Street.

The play was set around an American Thanksgiving meal and involved a husband arguing with his wife, then arguing with his brother, then the wife arguing with the brother, then the brother having a row with his girlfriend and then … well, you get the picture. It was supposed to be about hypocrisy and political correctness, but it kind of just gave me a headache.

I wouldn’t quite call it entertainment but it was interesting in that it made me so happy not to be part of a family, or even a couple, seeing how vile these people are to each other and how they drive each other crazy.

It also reminded me of my childhood, particularly the way the two parents insisted that the focus of their life was their children, yet they barely found time to speak to their eldest daughter - always telling her to go away and play or turn the TV down because the adults were talking. I guess it’s hormonal or something, but becoming a parent often seems to make people a bit bonkers.

By stark contrast, yesterday I went to a far more sedate production – The Letter by Somerset Maugham. My theatrical advisor, Mr Voisey, had informed me that, “I suspect the audience may favour the blue rinse”, and he was right. Not only did the rows in front of me offer a sea of grey follicle matter, but I was one of the few people there who could still walk unaided. Still, it’s nice to be out with the old giffers, except perhaps the man next to me who’s breathing was a permanent rasp.

The cast is headed by Jenny Seagrove, who I thought I remembered from The Railway Children but I now realise that was Jenny Agutter. The story line revolves around a woman who kills a man who she insists was trying to rape her. Her husband spends a fortune defending her name only to find out that she *is* a murderer, and also an adulterer and a liar. Oh dear! It would have been a bit better had it not been so blatantly obvious she was guilty as sin from the get-go, but it made for an enjoyable few hours.

I’m now keen to see Bad Girls the Musical, let me know if you see any deals for cheap tickets.