Things seem to be going horribly wrong for the Whingers. Or are things going horribly right? They just can’t tell any more. Their raison d’être has been pulled from under their feet; their laws of the universe have been rewritten; their metaphors have melted away; their similes have dried up like… well, we’re not quite sure like what.
We mean, for heaven’s sake! What’s the point of devoting your time to putting the theatrical world to rights if it’s right already? Having given raves (or as near-as-dammit) to Hairspray, Present Laughter and The Final Shot there couldn’t possibly be more satisfaction to come. Could there?
Did the Peruvian altitude affect their minds that much? Could it be the end of the Whingers as you know and love them? Read the rest of this entry »
A West End Whinger 