Yeeeeeeeee ha ha ha! I went to see ‘Annie Get Your Gun’ at the Old Vic last night and got sore chops (chaps?) from smiling. New house rules have been negotiated – my husband can wear his socks to bed as long as he sings “I’m a bad, bad man” with a crooked smile as he approaches to land on the mattress a la Frank Butler.
My theory that theatregoers are turning increasingly savage was proven yet again. A young woman behind me called Sal -I know this because her friend kept asking “You want a tissue Sal?” - sniffed along with gusto to ’There’s No Business Like Showbusiness’ and ‘Doing What Comes Natur’lly. Long wet swallowy sniffs that at one point triggered my gag reflex, this unbelievably made my husband hiss “SSSssssh!” to ME not sharp-snot Sal behind ! He’s a bad, bad man……..
