Mr Overcoat Has a Few Suggestions

William Shakespeare recognized the knock on his office door. This heralded a visit from Cameron Overcoat, his agent and also the impresario in charge of what happened at the Globe Theatre. Will put down his quill and waited for whatever nonsense was bound to be about to come his way.

He would not be disappointed.

“We need more bums on seats”, Cameron began.

“Most of our audiences stand”, Will replied.

“You know what I mean”, Cameron said. “We need to get more people in, and I reckon I know just how to do it”.

“You do? How?”

“It’s how you begin your plays,” Cameron said. “It’s always some guy making a speech”.

“That’s what plays are”, Will replied. “Characters saying things, mainly.”

“But it doesn’t really excite people, does it? You need to do something different right at the start, then when you’ve got everyone’s attention, you can get down to all the speech stuff”.

“So what do you suggest?” Will asked.

“Let’s take Richard Three”, Cameron said.

“Richard Three?”

“Yup. The guy with the bad back who’s short of a horse towards the end.”

“What about him?”

“The audience must start off with lots of questions, especially if they missed Richard Two.”

“You what?”

“I reckon you need to have some guys coming on with large picture boards that tell everyone how Richard Two ended, so they can pick up the story.”

“Cameron …”, Will began.

“Yes?”

“Not too hot on English history, are you?”

“I do my best. And another thing …”

“Ye – ss?”

“I must have missed Richard One. When did you write that?”

“I didn’t”, Will said. “Got any more bright ideas?”

“How about having a warm-up man on stage before you get going?”

“A warm-up man?”

“Yes”, said Cameron. “Your plays are full of jesters, so why not make use of them to tell a few jokes and get the audience in a good mood. Take Hamlet, for example.”

“I don’t see it as a rip-roaring comedy, to be honest,” Will said.

“But it’s got a jester in it - name of Yorick, I believe?”

“He’s dead. Hamlet picks up his skull in Act Five.”

“But suppose he’s alive and well before the play starts? He could tell a few knock-knock jokes”.

“Such as?” Will asked, immediately regretting the question.

“Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Hamlet.”

“Hamlet who?”

“Hamlet who’ll be – or perhaps not be – the hero of this play!”

“Do you really think that’s funny?” Will asked.

“Well, maybe not that one, but I’m sure – with your talent – you can come up with something better.”

“Cameron,” Will said, “if that’s the best you can come up with …”

“But that’s not the best idea I’ve got,” Cameron said. “Just wait till I tell you what I’ve got in mind to get the next performance of Macbeth off to a flying start.”

“Surprise me.”

“Your problem, Will, is that you don’t keep your ear to the ground and appreciate what it is that people really want to see these days.”

“And what might that be?”

“Cookery”, Cameron said.

“Cookery?”

“It’s all the rage. You can’t get away from it, and you need to get on board with the trend, especially when you have a play with three fine cooks in it.”

“You mean the witches? Have you actually read their list of ingredients?”

“No matter. I reckon you could start off with them on stage giving a cookery demonstration – nobody has to actually eat anything if you think it might be safer.”

“I would prefer to have all of my audience still alive to watch the play, if that’s what you mean.”

“Exactly,” Cameron said. “You could have the witches swooping in on their broomsticks and making a loaf of sourdough bread or maybe a few French Fancies. They could introduce themselves as ‘The Scary Bakers.’”

“Cameron …”, Will interrupted.

“Yes?”

“You see that wooden thing behind you with a handle on it? It’s called a door. Kindly close it behind you on your way out.”