Fracking implausible

And so to the theatre. I have been to see Square Peg's latest production, 'Roseacre'. This is claimed to be in the style of those Scandinavian noir television series that have been very popular over recent years, but as I've never seen any I can't confirm that. What I can say is that it was rather gripping and completely nonsensical; still one can't have everything. Performed in a studio theatre it contained lots of the physicality and character doubling up necessary to compensate for limited props and a small cast, and which I rather like. There was, for example, a very fine and funny method of representing a game of darts in a pub. The plot - something to do with fracking and police infiltration of protest groups - was however absolute tosh. Quite why a Detective Chief Inspector came to be in charge of the riot squad was never explained and the inference that one could change one's DNA along with one's identity was downright bizarre. As for someone's ability to go about their daily life without anyone noticing that their scalp had been sewn back on overnight by a Russian prostitute with the aid of vodka as an antiseptic, let's just say that I have my doubts. Anyway, said escort's description of her relationship with her clients as "I stand on their balls and they call me mother" made my companion for the evening laugh knowingly to herself and me wince. There's a whole world out there of which I am thankfully ignorant.

On a different subject, readers may have wondered why there had been no mention so far this summer of my magic hat; be reassured that I have retrieved it from the cupboard and it is on charge.