We find our seats in the incredibly cute Duetsches Theater in preparation for my second Medea of the year. Given that Medea number one lasted over six hours and stands as a defining moment in my theatrical going life it is probably fair to say that this one has a lot of ground to make up. But I am in a theatre I have never been to before, a theatre which works in rep and is showing productions of Alice in Wonderland, Simon Stephen's Pornography and (hear this!) Mrs Dalloway so I am more than willing to take a leap here. Indeed were it not for the whole language-barrier issue I think I could quite happily come and work here (they have six - count them six - people employed in their dramaturgy department. Clearly I should start German lessons as soon as possible).
The house lights begin to dim and I feel the familiar thrill.
Then, just before the lights have dimmed entirely, Irish Boy leans over.
"Is this in German?"
There is a fleeting second when my brain registers this. What with us being in a German theatre and all that.
I do the only thing I can do: I nod and then spend the next ten minutes almost choking in an attempt not to laugh.
It is safe to say that nothing in this Medea makes me laugh anywhere near as much.