I shall join the rest of the world in linking to the list of things Shakespeare productions just don't need, ever. It's reader contributed, so contains a lot of wisdom from cast and crew -- as well as (I suspect) a few directors looking back at their early work and squirming in horror. I added my reviewer's tuppence -- and while one of my never-nevers came from a glaringly awful local town'n'gown group, the other comes courtesy of recent production at the Globe. I feel I've gotten off quite lightly, though: 92. I will not project a PowerPoint slideshow onto a large screen above and behind the actors, ever, for any reason, no matter what. The mind boggles.
The keepers of the squid ask Damien Hurst's people to help them find a tank.
The season finale of Life on Mars dragged a bit, eh? I guess they inserted a lot of (admittedly high quality) flannel and padding when the second series got approved. Fortunately, there was an antique episode of Survival about pygmy marmosets, Ian Holm narrating, to chill out to afterwards. Turns out that for all that they're
Last night I stayed up late virtuously re-potting the saggy money-tree, and when Andy phoned today over the latest whatever from the UK Web and Minicomics Thing I was in Gill and Sons.
Andy: Are you OK? Are you at work? Can you talk?
Jeremy: No, it's fine, I'm just buying flowerpots.
Andy: ROCK AND ROLL!!!!
Hmm. I'm supposed to be writing him a minicomic. About Hell. Never mind, my plants look great now.