Literary junkyard

We critics know everything about the theatre. We see the best shows, we get the finest seats in the house and we’re occasionally treated to a fuming glass of vin ordinaire to lubricate our ruminations. And yet what do we really know?

We critics know everything about the theatre. We see the best shows, we get the finest seats in the house and we’re occasionally treated to a fuming glass of vin ordinaire to lubricate our ruminations. And yet what do we really know? Last week a family funeral forced me to miss the press night of Frankenstein and when I logged on to the NT website I found it proudly boasting that the entire run was a slam-dunk sell-out. Rather than haggling with a tout on the South Bank I phoned the NT box office in desperation and was offered a ‘standing ticket’ on the spot. A standing ticket? I’d always assumed the Olivier was an all-seater stadium.