Moonbeam Farquhar Metheringham IV reviews ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’

You can listen to this on YouTube.

Mumsie and oneself planned a treat for Adonis. A light supper in a nice restaurant, followed by theatre in the round in the tiltyard of the ancestral home of one of our less distinguished titled families. It sounded so perfect and one’s Hellenic chum was beyond delighted by the prospect. 
We left chez Farquhar in good time, with Adonis expertly piloting Mumsie’s elderly and temperamental Volvo. One sat enthroned at the centre of the rear, buttressed by Macintoshes, Wellington boots, suncream and several bottles of a bright green beverage – consisting one was helpfully informed of White Rum, Green Chartreuse, Fernet Branca, and Dry Vermouth. I eyed the bottles with some suspicion.
It was a drive of some forty minutes, giving one leisure to study Adonis’ glorious profile and to note that not only had Mumsie been over the upper lip with Grandpapa’s cutthroat razor, she had also made a vague effort at throwing some dollops of maquillage at the ridges and craters of her abused physiognomy. Our arrival was unmarred by lateness, unavailability of parking, human tiffs, or inclement weather. Supper being delightful, we were a little late finding our allotted position on the verdant terracing. Fortunately for the health of the gentleman with the northern accent who cast animadversions on the parentage of our party, Mumsie had imbibed sufficient claret to do no more than push her face into his and enquire pleasantly whether or not he would enjoy picking his teeth out of his fecal matter. Adonis dragged her off before worse could befall.
And now. To the play. One was surprisingly carried into the magical world of an enchanted wood where the magnificent horned figure of Oberon sent a thrill through one’s very bones. The other pieces of business interrupting the tale of faerie were an irritant, but one could cope – even chortling a little at the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe. 
But then. Disaster. Of a sudden the sky became black and as it crackled with lightning the power failed and we could no longer see actors, actresses or our own hands before our faces. 
As the rain beat down upon our unprotected heads we ran pellmell for the urine yellow shelter of the Volvo. We may, it is fair to say, have reached that nirvana a little faster had not Mumsie so far succumbed to her potations as to fall into a rapidly accruing puddle and then take physical exception to some persons who were foolish enough to laugh.
As the only non-drinker in the party, the onerous task of wrestling the mechanical Machiavelli homeward fell on one’s slight shoulders. Whilst one drove homeward in the gloom and bouncing rain, one reflected on the play and mentally prepared one’s review of same.


As much as one saw was enjoyable, and one day one may even make the effort to find out how it ends.

Star rating: Three out of five – mostly awarded for a disturbingly sexy fairy king.

#reviews #parody #humour #humor

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