R3 Spoiler: Damage Done
In Which Your Humble Blogger probably could have guessed the punchline beforehand.
In Which Your Humble Blogger probably could have guessed the punchline beforehand.
In Which Your Humble Blogger repeats from the mark.
In Which Your Humble Blogger asks advice just as nicely as if he were planning on following it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger gets hold of the Psmith playscript, but still doesn’t know who manages the production rights to Arthur.
In Which Your Humble Blogger asks those people considering attending the show to (a) yes, please, come and see, and (2) not read any notes marked as R3 Spoiler until afterward. I mean, I can’t stop you or anything, but I think you’ll enjoy the show more, and the notes will still be here.
In Which Your Humble Blogger punches holes in rubbish.
In Which Your Humble Blogger stops for just a moment and thinks. Hey, where’d everybody go?
In Which Your Humble Blogger’s hands are the devil’s workshop.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would gladly sacrifice a few lines for a chance to stay in the green room and have a wee drinkie.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is pleased, again (and again and again) that other people are good at directing.