In which The Whingers put their money where their big mouths are..

The Whingers have oft complained that there’s not enough theatre out there that really amuses them.

Andrew’s sartorial choices often elicit huge guffaws from Phil, but he doesn’t need to sit through a couple of hours of dross to derive such pleasure. It’s often the high point of an otherwise turgid theatre evening.

So, a few years back, the Whingers (over a bottle or two of oh-be-joyful of course) threw down the gauntlet (Hello Kitty glove in Andrew’s case) to each other and decided that they could write something better.

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The theatrical event of the whinging year

Well, it’s all go at the Whingers’ respective headquarters in Kentish Town and Vauxhall as preparations for tonight’s party go into overdrive.  Moods are rather fractious as it’s 10.15am and in deference to their duties this evening neither Phil nor Andrew has had a drink all day.

Review – Attempts on her Life, National Theatre

• “Holy Arts Crisis, Whingeman! The London theatre world is on the verge of war. This could mean the end of cultural consensus as we know it!”
• “To the Whingemobile! We haven’t a moment to lose!”

Who had placed the mysterious, panicked call to the Whingephone? Who can say for sure? The transcript (all calls are recorded for training purposes) reads thus:

I need your help, Whingers. I’m worried I might have, I mean, a friend of mine might have done something very foolish indeed.

My friend has commissioned a dangerous artistic experiment and there’s been some fall-out. The audience is voting with its feet, angry mobs of citizens are braying for my my friend’s blood and a group of snipers from the Blogosphere of Playwrights is taking shots at them. The West End is on the verge of war.

Please help us, Whingers. You must settle this argument once and for all – you are the supreme arbiters of artistic merit in the capital. Please tell us – is Attempts on her Life indulgent theatrical wankery or a major event in our theatre?

Hang on a minute, I’ve got another call… Hello? You again? Who is this? Stop calling me that. It’s not nice. Is that you, de Jongh? Letts? … No, I’m not going to stick my London Critics’ Circle Award anywhere. It’s staying on my mantelpiece. Hello? Hello?

Sorry, Whingers. I’m back. Please say you’ll help. Please, please…

Ticket Offer – The Lord of the Rings

CONFIDENTIAL MEMO

To : Andrew
From : Phil
Date : 24 February 2007
Subject : Misery

Andrew

Thank you for your recent memo. Don’t despair. Help is on the way.

Review – Faust

Imagine the alarm of the Wet End Whingers (who could easily generate sufficient material to fill a companion blog called West End Worriers) when greeted by this sign at the gates of the National Theatre/Punchdrunk production of Faust on Saturday night.

Would the building collapse around their ears? Did they have public liability insurance? Was a derelict warehouse likely to have a bar?