“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… Read the rest of this entry »