Did you ever go to the theatre and imagine that you’d written the play? I have. Curtains go up at the interval. Everyone files out to buy drinks and ice-cream. You listen to all the little groups of theatre goers, curious types, discussing the show – your show. Some like it and are all charming, saying nice things, on tenterhooks about the rest. Then there’s the critics spewing poison in their straightjackets, unable to follow the plot, your plot. Could you resist the urge to tell them all – those critics – that you’d written the thing? I did. It’s better that way. You’re an audience member like them, with a drink and ice-cream. Enjoy the show, your show, my show.