Bull and Cock’s Pies

(Part) Finger Food

Bull and Cock’s Pies

Richmond Theatre until 1^st April

Review by Avril Sunisa

The problem with being a standby drama critic is you sometimes get requests for reviews at short notice.  The perk is that sometimes exclusive press performances come your way.  (Alas, in my case usually once a year.)  However, I was not expecting a telephone call in the small hours of a bank holiday.  2024 is however is unusual in its concurrence of Easter and the clocks being altered.   

This was my excuse for not being at my most alert at 5am (or was it 4am; or 6am; which way do the clocks go in the spring?).  Of course it could have my overdoing the chocolate eggs or overindulgence in the succulent lamb that Margaret, the crofter’s wife up at Killin, had given me on my pre-Easter trip to Perthshire, or more likely the excellent bottle of Hannay’s Canadian Whiskey.

There was so much crackling on the line that I thought the piggery down the road was on fire, so the detail was difficult to catch.  “A review”, I thought the voice said, of “spatchcock’s pies”. 

I pointed out that I was not the restaurant critic.  No, I was assured, a drama critic was needed for there was a real drama going on at Richmond Theatre that morning.  Could I get there by twelve noon latest?  However, if I could arrive before dawn (the 25A bus no longer runs at night, or not at all), she would send a taxi.  Her name was Annabella, and she hoped to be at the theatre for the press reception, as she knew the full plot. The line was very poor, but I think she said, “if there is a hitch on the journey”, I could get off at “the fourth bridge” before the theatre.  I counted back, Richmond Bridge, Twickenham Railway Bridge, Twickenham Bridge … Kew Bridge.  Ah, I asked her, “might I have to queue?”  “No”, she said, “unless there is big hitch”.  So I jumped at the opportunity to accept the invitation.

It was too much to miss, a chance to review yet another clandestine thespian experience at the earliest opportunity in April, this year by another coincidence on Easter Monday.   I was on my way before daybreak. 

When I arrived at Richmond Theatre, I stopped to admire Frank Matcham’s magnificent façade, taking in its grand entrance in the dawning light.  Walking up its thirteen steps, I recalled that, in three days’ time, my fellow critic Harry Zimmerman would be arriving for a gala press night.   However, the doors seemed shut!

I pushed at a few, then discovered one was open.  The posters showed that there had been a one-man show on over the weekend, Mr. Memory.   “Maybe he had forgotten to lock the door when he left”, I joked to myself.  The house lights were out, but could just see around by the “running man” emergency signs, so, in their eerie green light, I had a look around. 

“Hello Annabella”, I called.  No reply.  It looked as if the audience had just left in a hurry.  Just my luck, I thought, I arrive after the start and find out there has a fire practice. 

But no, I began to feel a little uneasy and remembered all the stories about the theatre ghosts at Richmond.  Still, screwing up my courage (and a quick shot of Scotch from my hip—flask), I explored.  Near the wardrobe department, I thought I could hear the sound of yarns being ripped, and in the scenery dock, there was a strong smell of Shellac.  Passing a rehearsal room, was that the sound of a dance being choreographed, the new-fangled autogyro, like the Twist, but more turns?  In the stalls I nearly tripped over a hymn book … with a neat round hole in it.    I decided it was time to leave.

I was not quite forty paces away, when I stopped to have another look at that fascinating façade, now in the morning sun.  Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  “Beautiful building, isn’t it?”  It was an educated Scottish voice.  I turned.  “Miss Sunisa?”  He went on to introduce himself as a professor.   

“I’m shooting there this week”, he said, rather menacingly I thought.  “Oh!” was all I could reply.  “Yes”, he smiled, “a film shot”.  As he extended his arm in a valedictory handshake, I noticed that he had had a very nasty accident to one of his fingers.

Avril Sunisa, April 2024

Photography by Mark Senior

Editor’s Note:  Richmond Theatre issued a press release this afternoon (1^st April, 12:01pm):
“Two people acting suspiciously, believed to be spies, have been spotted at West London’s Richmond Theatre. There has been no comment from Scotland Yard at this stage.”