We both thought this play/production was really excellent. The Bush Studio is one of our trusted venues these days – we rarely leave that place disappointed. This time we felt we had seen a very original piece of writing and some excellent performances.
The scenario is a simple one. A housing association block acquires a stench in the building which residents suspect might be caused by the demise of one no-longer-visible resident. But the residents seem powerless to get action out of the bureaucratic jobsworths “from the housing”.
The play is performed in a narrative rather than dramatic style, although the narrator/performers do slip in and out of characters – several each – while telling the story. A style that sounds iffy when described but it really worked for this piece. Below is the teaser/trailer fort his production.
The story is sad at many levels, yet there is a great deal of humour and humanity in the play. Performers Marcia Lecky, Safiyya Ingar & Sam Baker Jones all do a great job of bringing the story to life. Jess Barton directed the piece with a simple but very effective style.
The piece speaks volumes about the our society in the 2020s by telling a simple story, not by preaching or screeching about the issues that underlie that story. Farah Najib has written a really excellent short play here – we’ll be looking out for more of her work – that’s for sure.
This was our first visit to the Finborough for a while. We were pleased to see that the former pub underneath the theatre – which had been a closed down space on our last few visits since covid – is now a trendy Indian restaurant named Yogi’s. One to try…but not tonight.
1.17am is a two-hander, in which two twenty-something young women, Katie & Roni, whose close friendship has been shattered since he untimely death of Katie’s brother, spend a heart-wrenching 75 minutes delving into their shared truths, half-truths, white lies and fantasies.
Sarah Stacey’s directing is to be commended for making the piece flow so well. The play is a seamless one act play which could become laboured in less capable hands.
The production is running at The Finborough until 7 March 2026 – if you read this review in time and you like this sort of thing, we suggest that you book it before it’s too late.
The heist movie, as a genre, isn’t really my thing. It feels disconnected from the real world, to me, or at least disconnected from my world.
I did have a couple of youthful, personal experiences of failed heists. Those actual experiences no doubt informed my negative subjective perception of the genre.
I’m delighted to report that the police foiled The Great Battersea Camera Shop Heist. A few minutes after the crime, a bloodied gentleman presented himself at Bolingbroke Hospital, with several items from my dad’s smashed shop window about his person, having left a trail of blood along the few streets between the shop and hospital.
I remember my father commending the police for their astute detective work in apprehending the photographic equipment fiend. The police officers, without any outward signs of irony in their response, accepted dad’s praise smugly. Thus distracted, the police failed to book my dad for using child labour (me) as assistance for the squalid clean-up operation.
My second experience of a failed heist had the added excitement of cash, contraband and gun violence. This was in the mid-1980s, when I was working, on assignment, in the accounts office, at a large wine & spirits cash and carry warehouse, The Nose, underneath the arches at London Bridge.
One of the administrative employees in that office, I think she was named Diane, was a large, well-built woman. If you had gone to central casting looking for someone to play the part of a 1970s East German Olympic shot-putter, you might have chosen her.
One afternoon, while us office workers were quietly beavering away, we suddenly heard a loud commotion just outside the office. Diane leapt out of her chair and dashed onto the warehouse floor, yelling, “what the bloody hell is going on out here?”
A few moments later she came back into the office. “That’s got rid of them”. Shortly after that, we heard the sound of multiple police car sirens, after which the place was swarming with police for the rest of the afternoon.
It might have looked a bit like this. This and the headline image with thanks to DeepAI
Several (I think two) armed robbers had entered the warehouse in search of cash. They can only have been moments away from our office, where indeed they would have found plentiful cash, when Diane, unwittingly, bounded out with her shouty enquiry. The sight and sound of Diane apparently scared the armed robbers into running away sharpish.
Everyone in the office was in a state of shocked relief on discovering what had happened, not least how close we had come to being held up at gunpoint. Diane seemed the least shocked of all of us.
My work at The Nose was connected with an earlier heist of the non-violent kind. The owners were accused (and eventually convicted) of a sophisticated VAT and bonded goods fraud which, at that time, was believed to amount to £3M; then the largest Customs & Excise fraud ever.
My firm’s role was to help get the business back onto the straight and narrow, as the tax and judicial authorities wanted the business to continue trading so that the authorities might recover the defrauded value.
That role, twixt business and authorities, was very unusual. At one point, on the first day of the trial, I ended up dashing to the Old Bailey with an incriminating document I had, in the nick of time, discovered. Richard Ducann QC, strangely more famous for the Lady Chatterley , Last Tango & Fanny Hill obscenity cases than for The Nose case, persuaded the owners to change their pleas to guilty on the back of their self-incrimination.
At that juncture, some of the customs people mistakenly thought I was their stool pigeon (ha-cha-cha-cha). But my firm’s role was to support the business, not to do the authorities bidding.
I had an idea to do forensic accounting using seminal computer modelling techniques (spreadsheets), to ascertain the true value of the fraud. In part, that required me to model the economics of the entire wine trade; someone had to do it. The exercise proved the actual value of the fraud was much less than the £3M the authorities had asserted. Thus I quickly fell from favour with the customs folk.
I learnt a lot and enjoyed doing that forensic accounting assignment. But I soon drifted away from such work, after just one other 1980s fraud case. Yet now, nearly 40 years later, I’m minded to re-assemble the old firm’s investigative team. One last enormous, audacious, forensic accounting case. Just think of the fees. We’d all be able to retire in luxury…and what could possibly go wrong?
The Evening Itself, Including Several Other Heists
It is my solemn duty, in my capacity as The Scribe (aka ‘ammer ‘arris, apparently) to report on the evening.
The Boss (Rohan), His Moll (Jan), Independent Scrutiniser (Chris) & The Polymath (Kay)
We ate Moroccan food at Souk, the scene of earlier crimes perpetrated by The Boss and some of his cronies:
After the grub, it was down to business. Usual ThreadMash style – Rohan introduced and linked the pieces. On this occasion he went for some musical links – some funny, some just plain weird.
First up was Kay, whose story started off like one of her rather wonderful childhood stories about spending time with her grandfather, but then got darker and darker, as a heist story emerged from the seemingly innocent fun at the start of piece.
Next up was me – see performance piece above.
Then John Eltham told an intriguing tale from the 18th century, partly based on true events, partly on conjecture, with a mixture of piracy, mutiny, hidden treasure and betrayal. Is it a spoiler to say that, despite the tropical setting, many jewels end up buried where the sun doesn’t shine.
Julie was next. She imagined a family business doing heists to order, with a female member of the family nonchalantly going through the businesses terms and conditions with a telephone enquirer. At least one of the cancellation clauses seemed to be an existential problem in more ways than one. It was a very funny piece…
…as was Jan’s piece, which brought everyone who had assembled that evening into play. The Boss in her piece is a sinister character with a bunch of unsuspecting cronies, who are all writing creative pieces to order, not realising that The Boss is stealing all of their stories and publishing them as his own. Who could possibly stop him? Perhaps the quiet, demure one, who also happens to be The Boss’s moll.
We all chatted together for a while…before The Boss set our next assignment and encouraged his accomplices in Souk to extract money from us.
After that, some of the gang scarpered sharpish – especially those with long journeys. Several of us stuck around to try and put the world to rights. We failed, but at least we tried.
Perhaps we should have debated world affairs over coffee, in the 18th century style. Right at the end of the evening, I suggested same to Kay, as a way of mentioning my Thomas Paine blue plaque project, a mile or so north of Souk, in Fitzrovia, three doors down from the house in which my dad was born.
All music by William Lawes, this is what we heard:
Choice Psalmes: – Music, the master of thy art is dead
Harp Consort No. 9 in D:– Pavin on a theme by Cormacke
Choice Psalmes: – My God, my rock, regard my cry
My God, my rock, regard my cry (arranged by Loris Barrucand)
Judah in exile wanders
Harp Consort No. 5 In D: – Alman – Saraband
Harp Consort No. 4 in D: – Coranto
Choice Psalmes: – Whieles I this standing lake swathed up with ewe
Love, I obey, shoot home thy dart
O sing unto the Lord a new song
Harp Consort No. 11 in D: – Fantazy
Choice Psalmes: – Ne irascaris, Domine
Harp Consort No. 10 in G: – Paven on a theme by Coprario
Choice Psalmes: – How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord
Come sing the great Jehova’s praise
In resurrectione tua
Harp Consort No. 8 in G
Choice Psalmes: – O my Clarissa
This concert is basically their latest album Lighten Mine Eies, available I’m sure at all good CD outlets and streaming, e.g. YouTube Music – click here.
Below is a little video clip of them performing one of the instrumental pieces:
While below is a little video clip of them performing one of the choral pieces:
We were supposed to hear Maïlys de Villoutreys sing the soprano parts, but she was unfortunately unwell. Enter a late replacement in the form of Marion Tassou, who did a wonderful job given the near-absence of preparation and rehearsal time.
Ensemble Près are a very together-looking unit, handling the late soprano switch like the commensurate professionals they clearly are.
We really enjoyed this concert and have enjoyed listening to their recordings of 16th and 17th century English music since. An unusual choice of repertoire for a young French ensemble. I hope it works for them.
Robin Pharo, their leader and gambist, did mention that they have started work on some French repertoire as well. Quelle surprise!
Below is a charming little promotional vid, not that we were enticed by the vid. We were enticed because I am a bit of a George Eliot nut and this play is about an intensely difficult “coming of age” stage in the life of Mary Ann Evans, subsequently known as George Eliot.
It is the sort of story that could easily become mawkish and/or melodramatic, but we were in the safe hands of Alexi Kaye Campbell (playwright), Anna Ledwich (director) and a top quality cast.
The evening was hugely entertaining, with a beautifully blended mixture of comedy, tragedy and tragi-comedy. Owen Teale is no doubt the big name draw for this production, but the big name to be is surely Elizabeth Dulau – remember where you heard the name first – whose performance as the young Mary Ann Evans is simply masterful.
The supporting cast all played their parts well too, even those who were written, I’m sure deliberately, as caricatures of characters that Mary Ann Evans subsequently slipped into her great novels. Keeping most of the characters on stage much of the time, bringing them to life when needed, was a lovely directorial touch; I imagine a nod to the same “character forming in more ways than one” nature of this Mary Ann Evans story.
You don’t have to be mad on George to be mad on Bird Grove
Janie is not a George-Eliot-ista but still thoroughly enjoyed her evening – even after the nail-biting race we had to get to the theatre on time – having allowed 75 minutes for the North Circular Roadwork, which was only JUST enough time. They didn’t have such problems in the mid 19th century…
…but they did have their own issues back then.
I’m rambling. If you are reading this in time, grab yourself some tickets before it is too late. A great night of theatre. Well done, Hampstead, once again.
Let’s be honest about this – we wouldn’t have gone to see this play/production had it not been for the fact that Jan Goodman is in it. The Old Red Lion Theatre, although we had heard of it, has never been on our radar. But neither Janie nor I had previously seen Jan performing in the theatre – despite the fact that Jan and I appeared together at the National not so long ago, darlings…
…but the handful of January dates for the original run of The Paper Doll House didn’t work for us.
When Rohan postponed the ThreadMash I was going to attend 12 February, because Jan’s run had been extended…
…it made sense to me to book the show and go.
Janie had been cherishing the idea of a quiet night in for that evening, but as the day progressed started asking me questions about the show and eventually asked,
do you think I’d be able to get a ticket at this late stage?
…to which the answer of course was, “let me see – they are being sold on-line…yes we can!”
The weather was awful, as indeed the weather has been for most of 2026 so far. We worked out that the neighbourhood benefits from free parking on pay-bays and residents bays after 6:30. Despite me joking about “there be dragons” on my copy of the London maps for any area that doesn’t have a W in the postcode, actually I know those Clerkenwell and Islington roads pretty well, having spent so much of my life working with charities based on those mean streets.
Whatdya mean, mean?
The hard-boiled language is a segue into the play, The Paper Doll House. Set in 1956, revolving around a dramatic mother and daughter combination who might, or might not, have been the perpetrators of a notorious Hollywood murder in the 1920s.
The play unashamedly wallows in pastiche of the two golden periods involved, and does so very well. The play also makes knowing and homage nods to more serious theatre. Both of the abuser/victim pairs involved: the mother & daughter, plus the gangster & moll, have their Ibsenian Dolls House moments in the play. The piece also resonated with Williamsesque Glass Menagerie & Baby Doll themes.
An intriguing mix of camp fun and thoughtful drama, this play could fall flat without high quality acting. That’s where the cast, in particular Jan Goodman (mother) and Carol Been (daughter) come in. Their performances were top notch. Camp and comedic at times, sinister and tragic at others. Credit also to Tug J Wilson, the director, whose work with all four actors must surely have benefited from his long and varied career on stage and screen. Credit also to Tom Inman and Chloe Teresa Wilson, who played the less-developed roles of gangster and moll respectively with panache and measure.
As Janie and I so often say when we see top notch theatre in fringe/pub theatres, this play/production deserves a wider audience than it can achieve at The Old Red Lion, run extensions notwithstanding.
We enjoyed our evening of theatre and at last we’ve seen Jan Goodman perform on stage. Not before time!
Paul Cattermull & Emma Norris (front), Linda Sheraton-Davis, Me, Richard Prosser & Simon Mansfield (back) – looking on from the dedans.
The team at The Queen’s Club gate are regular faces and clearly very well trained. On arrival, I announced myself by saying:
I am here for one of the great events in the global sporting calendar.
The attendant replied:
That must be the Dedanists’ match. Let me get the list…
I was especially looking forward to the fixture when I learnt that I would be paired with Giles Stogdon, with whom I have partnered many times in the past, but not since the arrival of Pinky, my new hip, less than a year ago.
Playing one of the early matches gave us the opportunity to warm up with some of the other early arrivals. During warm up, Giles tried but failed to emulate the “lights out tennis” he had mustered against me the previous week in the MCC weekend:
The early arrival also of Linda Sheraton-Davis & Chris Hancock enabled us to start our bout about 15 minutes early. Just as well – the battle was a hum-dinger which would not have been concluded in a mere hour. Indeed, even with the extra time, we needed to start the decisive third set at 4-4.
At one point, Linda Sheraton-Davis made an impressively elegant, almost balletic manoeuvre, in order to dodge the ball and avoid losing a vital point, allowing a modest chase instead.
Later in the evening, in conversation – yes, the chatting, watching, eating and drinking is at least as important as the tennis on these occasions – it transpired that Linda had indeed pursued ballet as a hobby in her youth. Several people expressed regret that Linda’s “croisé devant” had not been captured on camera during our match.
But in the modern era, one needn’t let an absence of real images spoil a good story. I instructed DeepAI to produce an image that reflected Linda’s move. The AI did rather well, although I couldn’t persuade it to produce anything that looked faintly like “a real tennis court”…or even “a court tennis court”…as the background. But it has most certainly captured the dance move.
Being a polite chap, I did ask Linda for permission to produce and publish an automated artist’s impression of the moment. Linda replied:
Only if you also point out to your readers that starting the final set at 4-4 put you and Giles at an advantage, because in both of the previous sets you had won the first two games and then lost the next three!
You see how much it means to us all! In truth, we all turn up in the hope of having good bouts like the one we enjoyed on this occasion, but tend not to be too fussed about the result if it is a good match.
As much as anything else, this Dedanists’ fixture, like many others, tends to be populated mainly by Dedanists, such that we often find ourselves batting for the other side. As in 2023, in 2026 I was representing The Queen’s Club…despite having no real right to do so.
Giles Stogdon has no more right to represent Queen’s than me. He hadn’t even twigged that we were listed to represent Queen’s rather than The Dedanists’.
The fact of the matter is – the “which team won?” aspect doesn’t really matter. We raise some money for the Dedanists’ Society good causes, have a good fun match and a most companionable dinner afterwards. In that sense everyone wins and tennis wins.
Richard Vallat & Gary Duncan (service end) v Graham Defries & Stuart Kerr (hazard end).
On returning to the gallery after their battle, Richard Vallat confessed to me that he had completely forgotten which side he was representing this time around. Classic. But the last set of that match was a most enjoyable watch while we worked up our appetites for a delicious boeuf bourguignon dinner, followed by a very tempting cheese plate.
But just in case anyone has come here to see a results sheet – here is that sheet.
Our first Wigmore Hall concert of the year. We had been looking forward to this concert as something rather different…which it was. It was also very different from the concert as promoted. The rubric mentioned banjo and tambourine. Rhiannon apologised for that, as she explained that she and Francesco were currently working on voice and piano.
No-one seemed to mind. The audience mostly comprised Rhiannon fans, from what we could make out. We didn’t recognise fellow Wigmore-istas. Which is a good thing in our view. We are great believers in the Wig opening up to different artists and styles.
The music Rhiannon Giddens and Francesco Turrisi played us was delightful and of the highest quality, albeit relentlessly downbeat in mood. Leonard Cohen and John Dowland had nothing on this pair in the gloom department.
Rhiannon is a charismatic performer, who can clearly shift between musical styles and spoken languages in a seemingly effortless way.
She did get caught out on the piece they were premiering that night, when the music page technology let her down. She stopped, explained the problem and asked if we wanted her to start again?
Yes please…
…we all shouted. So she started again.
Francesco explained with great enthusiasm that he had been afforded the honour and opportunity to play The Old Lady – the older of the two Steinway pianos at The Wig that rarely gets an outing. I had thought that the piano looked a little different when we arrived. The headline photo shows The Old Lady with our reflections in it as I snapped it on exit.
There’s not a lot of on-line video showing Rhiannon Giddens performing with Francesco Turrisi, but the following YouTube (which also includes one other musician), shows one of the most moving pieces they played: American Tune by Paul Simon:
We thoroughly enjoyed this concert and will look out for other concerts in Rhiannon Giddens Wigmore Hall residency. We might get to hear the banjo and tambourine next time. Or something completely different. I don’t suppose we’d much mind.
The players greet graciously; the manner in which the whole match was played
Big Match Build Up
At the end of the MCC Club Weekend, a couple of days before this match, I reassured Tom Carew Hunt that I had put aside the evening to join him at the Paterson Bowl Final. Tom said:
I’m so glad, as I am now a serious doubt for being able to get into London that evening.
I had a dreadful feeling that I would end up master of ceremonies for the post match presentation; a feeling that was utterly justified.
That sense of dread was magnified when I arrived at Lord’s to discover that the RG Paterson Bowl itself was under lock and key in the MCC museum, which meant that it would not be possible to present the actual trophy on the night.
On reflection, I realised that it is, in fact, an MCC tradition to restrict access to trophies in this way – The Australians have had nearly 150 years to get used to such limited access in the matter of “The Urn”, win or lose.
I also had a slight sense of dread, on Eddie Gray’s account, when I learnt of the handicap Ben Havey was due to receive. Both players are relatively new to the game and both are fast improving, which is rather wonderful, but Ben in particular is currently going through one of those “growth spurts” that talented players can achieve.
I had done battle with Ben only a couple of days earlier, albeit at doubles. Here’s a single rest (rally) clip of me serving to him:
Let The Big Match Commence
So, to the Eddy Gray v Ben Havey match itself. Both players started a little nervously, I thought, with one or two uncharacteristic errors. It was the first “big final” for both of them. It was also the first big final for our apprentice professional Henry de Lord, who has been working on his own game with both of these players lately. But all three of them settled quickly and then did very well.
Jonathan Potter also represented the tennis committee on the night. He was able to comment from first hand experience on Eddy’s recent progress.
Eddy indeed showed us his array of weapons, with several forces to the grille and some superb winners on the floor too. But Ben also has powerful winners, plus a very strong defensive game. That made the nine point handicap difference extremely difficult for Eddy to try and overcome.
Here is one point by way of example, in which an Eddy error results in the glorious ringing of the winning gallery cowbells…but from the wrong side. “Hell’s bells” I like to call them – they used to reside in my late mother-in-law’s apartment.
Here is another really excellent rest (rally) in which both players demonstrated their fast-improving skills, eventually resulting in Eddy landing a hazard chase.
Very soon after that one, Ben’s girlfriend, who was sitting a little nervously close by, asked me if the match was nearing its end. I said
…if I have been counting correctly, this is now match point.
Which it was:
The result: Ben Havey bt Eddy Gray 6-1, 6-1 on handicap.
As their handicaps move towards each other (hopefully both still improving) I suspect there will be some close battles between Ben Havey & Eddy Gray, plus some excellent representation for the MCC by both of them.
We held a short presentation ceremony on court, during which I said that sort of thing and presented both of the combatants with their mementoes. I also gave Ben advice on how to visit his trophy and handed him his well-earned bottle of Pol Roger fizzy pop.
My self-report card: 10/10 for a wonderful weekend, 9/10 for effort, 6/10 for performance, 0/10 for results.
I have written at length about the MCC Tennis Weekend before and certainly don’t want to bore regular readers. For those who have not read about such matters before: the 2024 report majors on tennis derring-do and nervousness about method acting…
This year I’ll focus on the tennis. To get the least interesting bit out of the way, I’ll simply say that my partner, Jeremy Norman, and I, did not do well. Group B was especially strong this year, as evidenced by our group’s runners up eventually taking the top prize – Mason Sharp Trophy. Someone has to bring up the rear in each group.
We did, however, try hard. We also provided some entertainment…in a good way. We even influenced the result of the tournament by eliminating one of the stronger pairs in our last rubber, thus providing the eventual winners a semi-final slot. The following clip shows probably our best, albeit in vain, efforts during that last round robin match.
20 stroke rests don’t happen all that often at our level.
At the very start of our campaign, on the Friday, we were up against Giles Stogdon – my partner from last year, who literally produced a “lights out tennis” moment on court:
Jeremy Norman and I are absolutely convinced that, had it not been for the lighting deficiency on court for the rest of the tournament, we would have prevailed in all of our matches. 😉 . We would say that, wouldn’t we?
As for the Chair of tennis, Graeme Marks, he seemed hell bent on using the prerogative of the chair to sneak those extra few points that can make all the difference. A net cord that still makes the winning line, a spin-backer onto the grille ledge, another spin-backer into the dedans from his partner in crime, Paul Wollocombe…
…not that such “tactics” were enough to get them through to the semis, despite recording a good round robin win against the eventual trophy winners. Such is tournament tennis sometimes.
I was able at least to relax for most of the Sunday, after playing my heart out for pride just before lunch. The semi-finals and finals were a good fun watch, not least because of the convivial (and at times almost rowdy) atmosphere amongst those members who chose to stay and watch the concluding afternoon of the tournament.
It really is always a grand finale and enjoyable afternoon, regardless of the quality or excitement of the tennis matches. This year, as it happens, the tournament built up to a humdinger of a Mason Sharp final, which went all the way to a deciding game.
Firstly, for those who want to watch it, the final of the Osborn Parker (C/D Groups). Iain Harvey & Sebastian Maurin v Andrew Hinds & Giles Watkins.
Secondly, for those who would like to see the whole match, the final of the Mason Sharp (A/B Groups). Steven Bishop & Paul Cattermull v Nigel Smith & Paul Wickman.
If you only fancy the last three minutes of the big final, having already learnt that it went to a deciding game…here is just the deciding game:
It is most unusual for a team from the B group to prevail in the final – let alone the runners-up from the B group. In this case, even more unusual because Paul Wickman went home after their round robin loss on the final morning assuming that his pair had been eliminated. In fact, as the group had panned out, the comparative scores meant that Havey and Walker needed to thrash me and Jeremy Norman in the final round robin rubber of the group in order to overtake Smith and Wickman.
I did berate Paul Wickman, while also congratulating him on a fine tournament win, for assuming that Jeremy and I would be thrashed. “I hadn’t thought it through to that extent”, was his excuse.
Fortunately, “going home” for Paul did not mean “going over the hills, far away and unable to return.” He and Nigel put on a fine show, both in the semi-final and the final. Two of their very best rests were in the semi-final, which I shall use as a closing clip for this piece.
The atmosphere at Lord’s was terrific all weekend. So much effort goes in from staff and volunteer organisers to make the tournament seem effortless on the weekend itself. The organisational effort and skills cannot be demonstrated in a 90 second YouTube clip…but, fortunately, the tennis skills and effort can:
