One man. Fifty-five minutes. Sensational!

“Paul Doust has out-Stopparded Stoppard. The epigrams tumble and sparkle. A constant delight.”
(The Pink Paper)

“Is there a medium in the house with the powers to communicate the accolade dear Oscar must surely have ready to drop gently on the shoulders of Mr Doust?” (The Stage)

“A plot quite as preposterous as ‘The Importance’ itself. Yet it keeps us absorbed through a tale of thwarted love, frustration and heartbreak, unfolded with such restraint and dignity (however odd that word seems) that one eruption of minor violence comes as a shocking jolt. A dash of Alan Bennett perhaps, a soupçon of Firbank; but predominantly an individual and haunting flavour all Doust’s own” (The Times)

“It becomes, to borrow from Orton, a Freudian nightmare!” (The Scotsman)

“I don’t know what that was – but it was bloody brilliant!!!” (Astounded first-night audience member)

“Funny, touching, above all different – GO!”
(The Times)