Seeing Yes, Prime Minister with a Political Insider

It was always going to be interesting, seeing Yes, Prime Minister with someone who used to be an advisor to the guy who's just been made leader of the opposition. (Of course, we didn't know this at the time, but the little insights into the workings of a similar office still stand true.)

JC's first comment was that the set was pretty damn good. "That's just about the size Ed's office used to be," he whispered, before any action had even taken place. "In fact, looks pretty like it."

The second thing he spotted about the same time as me: that David Haig's (as PM Jim Hacker) suit and shoes just weren't right. It doesn't take experience of working in Whitehall to see when someone's costume just doesn't fit the part. A sloppy, ill-fitting, tired-looking suit, and some terrible "comfy" shoes will big, fat, rubbery soles don't scream, "look at me, I'm pushing the Presidential part of my powerful position as Prime Minister of the Britain and Northern Ireland..." It was off-putting.

My betrothed(!) was also quick to give kudos to Emily Joyce's portrayal of Special Advisor Claire. "She's got exactly the right levels of arrogance and ohgodidontknowwhatimdoing for a SPAD," was JC's assessment.

But the main thing that got to JC was that it just hadn't been updated enough for his liking. Just adding references to Blackberrys and the like doesn't suddenly make a show zeitgeisty. Today, people like Sir Humphrey, far from being completely disinterested in what the electorate might want or think (as portrayed in the 80s by the TV show) are now obsessed with it, according to JC. Sure, to reinvent a character would've perhaps been beyond the desires of the audience, but it would've been nice if there was one voice onstage showing a more modern approach to taking the temperature of the people as a whole, through twitter or facebook or whatever. (But any reference to tweets or, dare I say, pokes would've been missed by the majority of the properly ancient audience on the night we saw the show...)

Which leads me to one final point on this funny but flawed play.

There was an excellent example of what I'm going to start referring to as "satire fail" on the night when we were there. You might remember me questioning the weird, I felt, inappropriate laughter at The Little Dog Laughed back in January. There was a similar incident in Yes, Prime Minister. I'm not 100% sure I can remember what the line was exactly, but it was after something about the Freedom of Information act being a bad thing, uttered by a character we should, of course, not be sympathising with. It was a piece of satire. Cue gales of agreement-based Toff laughter from the back, which can't help but leave a bit of a sour taste in your mouth. "No!" I find myself wanting to shout, "It's not funny like that. You shouldn't be laughing. Unless you agree with what's just been said. In which case, I don't like being in an audience with you..."

Satire fail, see?

Read my review of Yes Prime Minister on londonist here, or check out my Your Views piece on the Visit London Blog

Interview with Henry Goodman

Photo shows Henry Goodman in Duet for One at the Almeida Theatre. By Bridget Jones

Henry Goodman is one of those actors whose faces you know, but whose names you don't.

I was lucky enough to interview him recently for work. It was over the phone, so I can't really say I've met him. However, he was pretty much charming, as well as worried he hadn't prepared, happily ready to giggle when he'd got a good answer for me, and finally, the victim of distraction.

There are so many fascinating things about carrying out interviews. (I don't think I'll ever get bored of it.)

The more you do, the more you learn, of course. This time's lesson was never, ever say "One last question...". By the time I'd finished my flawed final intro, his attention was gone, and the answer he gave was rambling and useless. Lesson learnt.

My previous lesson was to do as much research as you possibly can. (Yes, yes, I know. I should know this already.) Speaking to Jenna Russell, she told me about her husband being in Women Beware Women at the National, a show I'd seen. But I totally didn't know she was married to one of the leads: Raymond Coulthard. Oops.

So, I read and read and read about Henry. For once, I felt completely sure I'd done enough research to handle anything that came up in the interview. Ask me something about this Mr Goodman now, chances are I'll know the answer.

Was I able to talk to him about being a twin? Being born on Shakespeare's birthday? Being fired from a Broadway show? Whether his schizophrenic father had influenced his career choice? If his friendship with Imelda Staunton is as strong as it was last year? If he felt with this latest role has enhanced or lessened his feelings about being typecast as a Jew?

Nope, but that's the funny thing about the way we interview at work. The "My London" question formats are pretty much grown-up Smash Hits, to be honest. Favourites. Best. Most, etc. Sometimes I think I might as well be asking which is their fave member of Take That...

But I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Chances are Henry Goodman's been asked about his Jewishness before. And his twin. And his father.

Instead, I get the chance to get a giggle out of him while he's trying to explain his love for a yachting shop in Covent Garden. And when questions like that work, they're so much more satisfying. In this media-trained or, at least, media-savvy world, a slightly less common question can be nicely revealing of a real person behind the carefully presented persona.

Here's another picture of him looking a bit less serious as Sir Humphrey in Yes Prime Minister. Picture by Manuel Harlan