When it comes to the achievements of our nearest and dearest, the West End Whingers are pretty much on the same wavelength of Gore Vidal who famously said: ‘Whenever a friend succeeds, a little something in me dies’.
Strange then that the Whingers have for weeks been toasting (although admittedly any excuse will generally do: today, for example we were getting quite merry raising our glasses to the fact that on this very day in 1590, Anne of Denmark was crowned Queen of Scotland) the success of fellow blogger Stephen Sharkey who came to our party. We like everyone who came to our party. Whether we like them or not.
The reviews have been rather enthusiastic:
- The Times gave it four stars.
- Chris High in The Stage said: “Sharkey has written a tight, thought-provoking story that challenges morality and belief on many levels, with such an astute deftness of touch, it can easily resonate across the years to the world in which we live today and should be roundly applauded for doing so.”
- Lynn Walker in The Independent was a bit sniffier, thinking it might be a Catholic thing but gave it three stars anyway.
- Brian Logan in The Guardian said: “Sharkey’s is a provocative exploration of morality at a time of war; of how brutality so desensitises that even the Virgin Mary might run out of pity. And, despite one German accent straight out of ‘Allo ‘Allo, he is well served by a committed cast.”
Actually, that last comment almost had the Whingers heading for Euston waving their purses ahead of them but unfortunately Liverpool is not in the West End and the West End Whingers have to be true to their dual mission of (A) shaking up London’s West End and (B) not putting themselves out.
Nevertheless, everyone else should go. So go. And tell Stephen we sent you.
Above: some actors acting in Liverpool.
Footnote: Talking of our party (which we frequently do) we were delighted with the fish theme that spontaneously emerged there: Stephen SHARKey turned up as did FIN Kennedy and Phil is an old TROUT. There were also people with the surname SPRATT and GILL milling about. Marvellous. You couldn’t make it up. You wouldn’t bother to.