So last night I went to the THEATRE DARLING and saw Vernon God Little at The Young Vic. I understand that going to the THEATRE DARLING is a mandatory London past-time, so you know, when in Rome and all that. Of course, as a freelancer having just moved to the capital, there’s actually no way in Hell I can afford to pay to go to the THEATRE DARLING, and as such super housemate S, who was soundifying the show (that’s the correct term, right?), got me a ticket. Press tickets, no less. All the staff called me ‘madam’ and I swanned around drinking wine, laughing heartily and being ever-so lovely to the actually-important people who were there, all the while palming my hair out of my eyes (need a hair cut) and trying to hide my battered Primark boots (need new boots). Truly, worlds collide.
Anyway, the show got four stars in today’s Guardian. I’ll admit I found the book a real drag, but the show is something else. Go and see it. Tell them I sent you, they’ll know who I am, I’m sure.