To the Beanfeast. An enjoyable evening that went down well and, as I swanned about like a solo theatregoer with no mates (erm, yeah, that's what you were, loser.- reality check ed.), overheard lots of comments re the bread factory authenticity and the spot on smell and fucking fuck me sideways cunt fuck off fucking language of the piece amongst the more topical "Rovers beat Wigan. Wow". I was introduced to someone as a "former theatre critic." Strange - when I was a theatre critic I was never introduced to anyone as a "former bricklayer".
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