Royal Shakespeare Company’s Much Ado About Nothing: Wit, WAGs and Wembley
I have never much understood the attraction of a footballer. A laddy and lanky creature with no A-levels and more frequent trips to the hair salon than a 15-year-old-girl in her quintessential platinum blonde phase: I never quite got Phoden-fever. Yet, I supposed if they’re any good, then they’re bound...
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