Review – They Came To A City, Southwark Playhouse

Well, say what you like about the play or Robert Laycock‘s production but anything that prompts the Whingers into waffling on about politics in the Southwark Playhouse bar is surely worthy of remark.

J. B. Priestley‘s 1943 parable They Came to a City dates from the Halcyon days (WWII notwithstanding) when playwrights wrote about Utopian futures rather than the Dystopian ones which are all today’s writers are capable of imagining.

Review – When We Are Married, Garrick Theatre

You know you’re in good hands when the curtain rises and the set gets a round of applause.*

Simon Higlett‘s well-dressed Victorian sitting room drew gasps of admiration from the crowd, possibly because it brought back distant memories although presumably not from the Eastern Europeans or possibly Russians behind the Whingers with sweets wrapped in old Eastern Bloc cellophane which had been designed to be LOUDER when crinkled than the sad cellophane of the decadent West . WE WILL BURY YOU IN OUR CELLOPHANE.

But we digress. Having grappled with the Glaswegian accents in Men Should Weep last week it was comforting for the Whingers to head in a southerly direction and have their ears caressed by Yorkshire tongues. Phil’s mother was born in York (Nunnery Lane, since you asked) and he was oop there only a few weeks ago so it almost felt like home to him, only without old underpants strewn everywhere.