Reading reviews of plays that you are in is a right dodgy thing to do.

It’s well known that a review that disses a performance is uninformed, uneducated, uncultured, while reviews that praise your work are enlightened, elevated, exquisite.

Either type are equally hazardous to read and (in my opinion) to be avoided until after the show has closed. Why so? Because a comment in print too-easily morphs into a voice on your shoulder during performance, and it doesn’t help. You don’t need it.

Therefore I publish here the following redacted document which may or may not be a summary of reviews of INK (my lips are sealed, I admit nothing):

What I will say is that I, and the entire company, are completely exonerated.

Meanwhile to satisfy the curious here is my own non-disclosing-non-spoiler review: INK is a damn fine play. It is a work of cunning device, appearing on first look deceptively simple. The form of the production mirrors the tabloid format of the paper in question and the hero’s quest encapsulated in the will-they-won’t they task set out in the early scenes, messes with the audience’s head in that it makes you root for one of the global media-meisters of pop journalism.

Among the many amusing ingredients in the show, is the character of Diana (brilliantly played by Erin Neufer) the astrologer, and the use of the Sun-sign column to influence the boss.

Astrology isn’t everyone’s cup of lemon-juice, but if you’re interested, take a look here for my two-astro-cents on Rupert Murdoch and the planets in the case.