Theatre: Assassins
You know you can't hide your roots... I always like to say that for some reason... But Saturday evening arriving at the Landor pub er Theatre to see Assassins I felt thoroughly un-Australian. There I was dressed for a night at the theatre (albeit fringe theatre in the same street as a raid on two crack dens the night before) to be surrounded at the bar by many, many pissed Australians in thongs (the flip-flop kind), singlets and shorts as if it really was January in oz. It was no surprise that amongst all this malarkey the Fosters was flowing rather smoothly. I took solace with the fact that I was at least wearing Aussiebums even if nobody else knew that. Well that was sort of disclosed later in the evening after inviting the West End Whingers and their friends back to my flat and forgetting that I had not yet put away all the washing... But anyway, after getting past the rowdy mob downstairs I settled in to watch the show armed with a G&T. Assassins is Sondheim's t