Greatness, Thrust Upon

So while you d bags were sat indoors with a pile of bears watching The Devil Wears Prada, or whatever it is you do, I was in London town watching Shakespeare with a hot girl and Michael Hesseltine. Nullus.

Ahem. I shall quit the Bol impressions now. But it's true. I did take a hot girl to see the all-male Propeller company's performance of Twelfth Night at The Old Vic. And Michael Hesseltine was sat behind us. Sat in front of us was that old dude from Are You Being Served. He kept falling asleep. Fool! For t'was the finest, most gut-bustingly funny performance of the bard's cross dressing caper that e'er I did clap eyeballs on. I urge everyone to go and see it right away. I had no idea there was more laffs to be squeezed out of that old fruit, but, lo, squeeze them Propeller boys did, like Vinnie Jones did testicles. Especially great was the finely bearded man playing Sir Toby Belch (who reminded me a lot of Jeres - plus the guy playing Viola reminded me totally of my cross-dressing brother Alex). Malvolio was also quite awesomely conducted and realised, and his cross-gartered yellow tights and codpiece were awesome.

So, afterwards, we're sat in the bar, and my hot date notices the guy who played Viola fawning over Michael Hesseltine, all like, "ooh, such an honor to meet you sir," and all that. We lamented the tragic monied poshness of the acting tradition, and my hot date suggested I go and barge into Hesseltine. I stood up to go to the toilet, and WHO DO I ACCIDENTALLY, AND IMMEDIATELY SHOULDER BARGE?

Indeed. Michael Hesseltine.

"Sohreh," he said.

He never said that to all those Argies he had popped.

Anyway, I went for a piss, and in the toilet was dude who was playing the count Orsino> I congratulated him. "It is always nice," he said, "To be paid a compliment while one has one's cock in one's hand."

Which is true.