In one memorably ruined production this was the director's obsession, so he gave the actor playing Lear tiny, birdlike movements.

Alas! The set designer strongly disagreed and burst forth with a magnificently bare stage relieved only by a giant phallic monument at the center.

His vision being that King Lear was: "A Man Lost in a Wilderness. "

They never did reach an agreement.

But, as Green points out, it really wouldn't have mattered, because if one is brilliant enough to be obsessed about Lear being 'A Man Trapped In a Tube', neither Shakespeare, the cast, nor the audience has much of a fighting chance. . .

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This book is a deliciously hilarious spoof of the British stage, with heavy emphasis on 'cultural' amateur societies. It is a satire on producing as well as acting, directing,--and the gurus who teach it.

But in a wonderful twist of irony, it is now required reading with many Theater Arts depatrments in universities around the world.

( "Do NOT go to acting school!"--- Eleonora Duse )

As well it should be. Filled with outrageously improbable anecdotes , it nevertheless hits home too well for anyone in the profession.

It is a true masterpiece of ham, which offers marvelous advice for directors on how to succeed through obscurantist doublespeak.

No director, for example, should EVER say anything that remotely sounds 'practical' such as : "Well, frankly, I have to get 'em to speak up. "

Far, far better, according to Green, is to say things that sound profound but mean nothing, such as : "I'm not interested at all whether the audience hears my actors, but---it is vital they should hear them thinking. "

Heavy . . .

( "If a director writes in his notes: 'The Oedipal complex is obvious in this scene, must discuss with the queen'; the sooner he is packed and thrown out of the theater, the better it'll be for everyone! "-- George Bernard Shaw )

Shaw has an ally in Green who, based on personal experience, is convinced that the director's primary job is to weed out the obvious psychotics in the cast during the first week of rehersals.

As to actors left on board Green believes he is far more practical than Stanislavsky, whom he does not admire on the grounds that 'these method people are so vague.' He advises actors should carry a chart (1. Speak Slower. 2. Speak Faster, etc.) for whenever the director goes off into interpretive raptures, Oedipal or not.

Simply ask him to point to which number he wants.

Ah! And who could possibly forget the classic: "How To Steal a Scene Though Unconscious" which puts anything ever written by Constantin to shame. . .

An very, very funny book, which suprisingly does contain unexpected gems of commonsense.

Five stars are not enough.

This tome is full of useful information for the coarse actor, including "How to Steal the Scene, Even though Unconscious," "How to be a mere Spear-Carrier, and still ruin a scene," "Basic Makeup Tips for the Coarse Actor," and the useful diagram on set building "The Human Cleat." Anyone who's ever been in a performance of "Arsenic and Old Lace" will appreciate this book -- as will anyone who's ever sat through the show. (Not that I'm slamming "Arsenic and Old Lace," I think it holds up remarkably well.)

Should be required reading in all theatre coarses. Oops, I mean courses...

I first read this book as a teenager, while spending much of my spare time in amateur theatre, and have become Green's slave for life.

Whole segments of the book are quotable, and painfully - hilariously - familiar to anyone who has ever been involved with the stage, paid or unpaid. I remember reading excerpts to my brother over the phone, while both of us cried because we were laughing so hard ... because although these are not your own experiences, they might as well be.

Every actor - amateur or professional - will have come across a coarse actor in their lives: somebody who "knows his lines, but not the order in which they come", leaving everyone floundering; the blatant scene stealer who takes everyone's eyes away from the real action; the sets that collapse when they shouldn't, or don't collapse when they should.

I could go on. But you'd be far better served by reading the book instead, and keeping a box of tissues handy to wipe away the tears of hilarity.

This is by far the best book about sailing I have ever come across. It is witty - very witty! It is also full of excellent and very useful advice to tyro sailors.I have been sailing for over 20 years and I still roar with laughter when reminded of the vital importance of finding thje "garden shed, conspic", a piece of information found on many a chart, but which has fooled many generations of sailors.It is also excellent on the characterisation of sailing 'types' - they are all here.the cowqardly, the falsely brave, the idiot, the philanderer, etc. Heartily commended. Should never be out of print. GAP

This book is the funniest in our book collection. I've owned my copy for over 30 years. My wife and I have read it over and over again and we still laugh out loud--we know all the punch lines by heart.

Mike Green has a self-deprecating British sense of humor, and he paints a hilarious picture of a wacky boat trip on inland narrow rivers. In one week, they encounter (or, more accurately, cause) every marine disaster known, from Insanity of Ship's Master and Explosion of Vessel, to Death at Sea, as well as some previously unknown, such as Going Aground on a Bungalow. Anyone who has ever sailed will be able to relate to the experiences described--knots that come untied in the middle of the night; knots that can't be untied when they need to be; skippers shouting desperately at the crew in the face of an impending collision. . . you get the picture.

This book was written in the 1950's, but the sailing experiences are timeless.

This farcical romp is a cross between Hunter Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Boswell's Life of Johnson. Green's humor is quintessentially British. His caricature of the English Milord is bitingly satirical. Writing a description of events that transpire at the time of the American Revolution, Green almost apologizes for the audacity of the British upper classes in thinking they could retain an empire on which the sun never sets. If Haggard per et fils, the Honorable CF, and the family Foulacre are aristocracy in its most literal sense, it's small wonder indeed that things turned out the way they did.

This fun, bright book also gave birth to a short-lived English TV show, Haggard, that was absolutely tremendous. Sadly I've not found tapes anywhere available.

This little journal is fine and funny little parody of the eighteenth-century journals of Boswell, and Pepys (earlier) - and many less famous English diarists and chroniclers. It is introduced by its creator, Michael Green. In one elegant paragraph he tell us a lot about the diaries he used: "What struck me was their fascination with food (dinner was usually described in great detail and many of the dishes were rather strange by modern standards). Death and illness were also subject to close scrutiny. There seemed a compulsion to record sexual adventures in high-flown language which contrasted with the sordid realities [...] And there was an obsession with small sums of money." Green's protagonist, Amos Haggard (soon to be joined by his son) stays within these parameters as he takes the reader on a tour of his world (London, and then a comic tour of Europe). His diary entries are in turns droll, hysterically funny, gently repulsive (mostly the menu items), bawdy, and shot through with very funny political commentary on the hypocrisy (and criminality, sometimes) of the upper classes.

The journal begins on September 16, 1777 with a deadpan report of a man, Jas. Soaper, having been hung for stealing a nail. By the next day, we learn that "Jas. Soaper found to be innocent." Amos Haggard is a man who knows his own mind; if not closed, it is narrow. "I make it an infallible rule while travellg. abroad to see as little of the scenery as possible; thus the mind is not unsettled and disturbed by the wild excesses of Nature and barren deserts such as the Scottish Highlands." But he does travel; he goes to France, landing on "the loathsome land of Toads and Pederasts" and then to Paris, where for sport he insults the French, and finds that is impressed by the Bastille. He admires the variety of punishments there, is impressed by the prison's architecture, and makes a quick sketch - "with a view to erctg. a smaller copy in England."

Squire Haggard knows that December 25th is "the most sacred feast in the Christian Calendar," and observes annually by setting out early in the morning to evict his tenants who are in arrears. The day proceeds. He reports on his misdeeds and lack of nominal ethics with an insouciance that is constantly ridiculously funny.

There is a slyly woven plot that offers ample satirical commentary on the historic English preoccupations of class and money. There are imagined and real insults, bad food and dyspepsia, gossip and civil intrigue, poisonings, outrageous behavior, and (in a wholly successful parody of Plague diaries) the ever-present Death. In addition there is romance, bawdy fun, much too much drinking and, at evening's end - Squire Haggard's inevitable reluctance to settle the bill.

I laughed my way through this very entertaining little book.