Rip off prices for third rate entertainment. That seems to be the norm on the Australian stage these days. There’s more money in the form of corporate and tax payer funded grants going into backing stupid plays and musicals than ever before to prop up hack and amateur so called writers who mooch around the theatrical cocktail party circuit junket speaking the Her Majesty’s “lisp” lingo to beg funds for their crappy offerings. Australian theatrical giant Sir Frank Tait would turn over in his grave to see how much money is being sunk into funding stage fodder that could not stand up on its own two feet ever. And as for the owners of acting schools and singing teachers who churn out mediocre talent at it’s best, flaunting the tried and proven knowledge that you can’t “manufacture” talent (you’ve either got it or you ain’t) - you are crooks.

So where are the brilliant Australian producers and stage mechanics of yore like Bland Holt who thought nothing of driving a real hissing steam train across the stage of the Theatre Royal Melbourne (now demolished) to get an effect, or staging a real mine collapse on stage with underground stream pissing over the hero and heroine into the bargain for added drama. No. We’ve got to be content with a lamp shade in the middle of an empty stage and be asked to imagine it’s a lounge room AND asked to pay top dollar FOR WHAT!