FYI Mum’s wedding was sugar-coated, more info on that later though. Tonight I eschewed the football and the drawn-out leaving do of my publisher in favour of nobler pursuits; I went to the theatre. Not through design, I’d hasten to add; simply free tickets available to Future employees, which a friend had nabbed. The play was fantasti; thought-provoking, mooving, energising and surreal by turns. The name is Man and Superman, by George Bernard Shaw, performed by the Peter Hall company, and it combines a typical (and, oh-so-enjoyable) battle of the sexes with the philosophy of nietzsche, an entire second act devoted to an extraneous what-if about Don Juan in hell, and comment on fin de siecle morals and what it is to be yesterday’s progressive man turning into today’s conservative, and how little it means in the face of the superman (which, in this case, I’d interpret as woman, in her gloriously manipulative forms; which isn’t bigotry, but a theme of the play.)

Argue with me