I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you must avoid David Hare's The Vertical Hour at all costs.  I've seen some less-than-stellar plays in the last year, but this is the first I've left at the interval.  It's that bad.

Where to begin?  It's smug, for one, but also untruthful, in the simple fact that I don't believe that these characters would say any of these things in these situations.  The acting is terrible.  The scenes are endless.  The comedy is of the most irritating playing-to-the-choir type.

And have I yet mentioned that, of all the theatrical experiences in London, the Royal Court audience has always (and I mean always) been the wankiest?  What is it about Chelsea that does that to people?  Even the badly-bloused twits who needed to get past me and my friend to their seats didn't even say, "Excuse me."  They said, "Hello?" as if we were servants caught dipping into the sherry.

As we fled to Sloane Square tube at the interval to get away, we were behind a man apologising to his date for picking such a shitty night out, which tells you all you need to know.  Avoid, avoid, avoid...