Doesn’t It Hurt?

OK, I’ve been in two minds about saying this before the show, because I didn’t want to spoil any surprises, but then I thought you’re either coming to see the show, or you’re not, and if you’re not, I’d like to you come, and this may encourage you to fork out and turn up.

I get whipped on stage during the play.

For real. No shirt, no padding, no sound effects. OK, it’s a play whip, but it does actually hurt. Just not for long. And the red marks fade remarkably quickly.

To be honest, I’m more nervous about taking my top off (and the lines, don’t forget about the lines) because lets face it, while I am a fantastic specimen, what I am a fantastic specimen of is your basic slightly doughy thirtysomething WASP.

But at the end of the day, you only live once, it doesn’t hurt much, and I’d probably regret not just doing it.

So what are you waiting for? Get along to the Carlton site, pick your date, phone and book tickets and come and see me get what you probably think I deserve. Apart from everything else, it’s a great play, with a great cast, and some great singing. And a bathtub. Oh, and I GET WHIPPED LIVE ON STAGE BY TWO ATTRACTIVE YOUNG LADIES. Mustn’t forget that.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was ‘suffering for my art’, but padding and sound effects would dilute the theatrical experience somewhat. And I wouldn’t get so much attention.