That wasn't really my reasoning; I was keen to go as soon as I saw a Michael Frayn play was coming to the Churchill Theatre. So I rounded up Pablo, a lover of those two great British institutions, bedroom farce and Doctor Who, for an evening of both.
We follow the cast and crew of mediocre comic romp Nothing On from fraught dress rehearsal to disastrous last night, experiencing the first act of the play three times - twice from the front and once from the back - while the actors go through intrigues, pratfalls and misunderstandings echoing those on the stage.
The second act, in which all the drama takes place behind the set as the cast wait for their cues, is the pinnacle: a masterpiece of mime, timing, physical comedy and simulated buggery with a fire axe. I honestly thought I was going to laugh myself sick.
Seeing the Sixth Doctor's ample arse clad only in Union Jack underpants was the icing on the cake.
