We know! The Mousetrap!
Why? Because it’s there. Because it was about time. Because Phil and an awful lot of other people had never actually seen it despite being in its 58th year (As is Phil. Or thereabouts. Who’s counting?).
And because a group offer unexpectedly became available (see footnote 1). The Whingers proposed a group outing and the take-up was astronomic. So 18 celestial people (including apparently respectable theatre commentators such as him and him and her and her and a consumptive her) met up in a sunny Seven Dials to tuck into Andrew’s celebratory mousetrap (actually a bag of Mini-Babybels for practical reasons) before traipsing round the corner for the show’s 23,972nd performance. Yes, more cheese, creaky cheese, from the the Queen of Crime, the High Priestess of the Whodunit, Agatha Christie. Read the rest of this entry »
A West End Whinger 