The show was shit. And closed the very next performance. No great loss. At one point in the play one of the characters asks mournfully, "Who should I call?"
To which Stuart muttered under his breath, "Your agent."
Afterwards we met up with Jim and Maffa for beers, then a Mauritian meal, followed by more beers in Papillon.
On the train home later, we bumped into someone who recognised me - he worked for Arsenal and had remembered my face from the AFC LGBT video back in February. We swapped numbers and he gave Stu and I each a can of G&T. Nice.