Late on Saturday night when normal people were out getting drunk, hooking up, eating nasty kebabs at 2.00am, I was at my laptop finishing my play. What? I hear you say. What did you just say?
Yes. That's right Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. I got to write The End, although what I actually wrote was End of Play. And while it is The End, it's still not finished. It's a draft and it's not too shabby but it still has some holes, some big enough to fit an tram through, if fitting trams through metaphorical holes is your things.
No judgement.
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