Picture it. A school in some forgotten corner of rural England many, many years ago.
A fresh-faced, young boy takes his first tentative steps into the spotlight. A green one, as it happens.
He is thrilled. He is wearing a dress. He is a god.
To be specific, he is Third God (there is no fourth) in Bertolt Brecht’s The Good Soul of Szechuan.
That young boy – hard as it is to picture looking at him now – was Phil. Read the rest of this entry »
A West End Whinger 