No word from David after my challenge that he write a play as good as Shakespeare or give back some of the millions he made keeping greater talents off the stage, fifty-seven of them by my count.
He will be interested to hear of the opening night of Shakespeare In Italy and an audience that had no difficulty in comparing it with Shakespeare nor in judging it better than Measure For Measure, Troilus and Cressida, Pericles Prince of Tyre, Cymbeline, Two Gentlemen Of Verona, A Comedy Of Errors, Much Ado About Nothing, A Winter’s Tal and, The Tempest; and even Nothing Personal. So will his good wife Kristin who in these pages called me a ‘poor, sad man’ of no great theatrical talent forever waspishly envious of David’s genius and bank balance.
She should come to the show. Lucy Slattery’s close physical resemblance to her in a n Oscar-worthy performance of what is already being called ‘the best woman’s role in English drama’ might wonderfully focus her attention, and tempt her to invest a hundred thousand or so in our company, The Wooden O Players, which is looking to BAFTA awards and Olivier Awards in the next two years not just for this but for Neon Street and Intimate Strangers and Shakespeare In Yorkshire and Shakespeare In London. She seems really interested in money and she could make a lot more if she swallowed her pride and did this.
I invite her to reply, or to see the show.
Or to say why she won’t see it.