The Story of Hiske

The first time I saw her she was walking across the front of the dining room on a kibbutz on the edge of Israel’s Negev desert. She was wearing a leopard skin patterned raincoat, half-length pink rubber boots, and sucking a piece of what the Dutch call zoethout (sweet wood) and which looks for all the world like a cigar. A kibbutz is an agricultural community; basically a large collective farm, and I’m sure several people watching her were thinking ‘she’s not gonna last!’. Well she did. She was one of a large number of young Dutch women who’d just arrived to work as volunteers. Hiske worked several months in the kibbutz orchards picking fruit.

Turns out in fact that she shared the bedroom next to mine down in ‘the slums’ – what the volunteers called our rather basic accommodation. Sometime  soon after her arrival I heard someone playing music on the other side of the thin bedroom walls. It sounded quite sweet and lovely and I went to investigate. It was her. We soon started playing songs together and the rest as they say is history.

Together with Eitan, one of the permanent kibbutz members who played guitar, we formed ourselves a band which we called ‘The Irrigation Band.’ (Eitan and I worked in irrigation). We played a few songs at whole kibbutz events, and after we left the kibbutz Hiske and I hit the busking road up and down the length of Israel and became quite well- known. We even had a story about us on page 3 of the Jerusalem Post!

Post Israel we lived in Holland for a few months, then spent about 2 years in Australia before returning once again to Holland with our young 2 year old son. I stayed home while Hiske studied modern dance full time. After 3 years we once again returned to live in Australia and by then our relationship had become quite lifeless. We eventually separated.

Over the next 30 years for the most part we remained good friends. Not close exactly but there was certainly no animosity. We saw each once or twice a year because we had a son together, and now there are grandchildren.

And in the middle of this happy arrangement she suddenly died. I had heard from others how the death of your first spouse can often trigger feelings of lost love and grief and the power of it really surprised me. She had been pronounced brain dead by the medicos but was kept on life support to give time for relatives from Europe to come and say their goodbyes. I was in two minds about whether I should join in the goodbye ritual by the hospital bed – we had been separated for nearly 40 years after all and in many respects she was now a stranger to me. However I got the feeling from my son that he would like me to be there so I followed that emotional scent and went to the hospital vigil that was now occurring in Sydney.

I shared grief in her passing with members of her extended family and many friends from her life in Sydney. Occurring at the same time was a spontaneous outpouring of grief and praise for Hiske as she lay on her death bed. Tens, if not hundreds, of people on social media referred to her great friendship, her artistic talents, her wisdom, inspiration, spirituality, and generosity. The praise of so many aspects of Hiske’s personality was fulsome and for me a little bewildering.

Hiske and I spent 7 years together when we, and she, were much younger. We separated when she was 26. But the person I knew was not as people were now remembering her. I was dumbfounded. I don’t question any of the effusive outpourings that blossomed after her death, but I am left with the obvious conclusion that she changed a great deal after we split up. Perhaps she realised who she really was (sounds corny I know) and what it was she wanted to do with art and music. Whatever the case it is clear that in this latter part of her life, she touched a great many people with her music and creativity. Words like angel, free spirit, a true creative, and inspiring friend were frequently used to describe her and signal what it was about her that her friends and followers were losing. I have nothing but respect for the truth about her as many people see it, but I did not know this person.

It seems petty now to quibble about this. I feel even more strongly now that our age difference back then was a significant factor, as was the fact that she was relating to me in a second language. Throw in the fact that she was seriously anorexic the whole time I knew her and I just don’t think she was able to express herself fully with me. Clearly moving on from me was the right thing for her to do. I cramped her style.

 "You are like a hurricane" (Neil Young)

Farewell Dear Hiske

A few days ago Hiske Weijers, my former partner and mother of my son Joti, suffered a stroke and was unresponsive when discovered by Ben, her long-time partner in life and music. She spent a few days in hospital in Sydney on life support to enable Dutch family members to make the journey across the world to say goodbye to their beloved sister and aunt.

It is with great sadness that I write that Hiske was officially pronounced dead today, September 12, 2026, aged 63. 

Thank you for our wonderful son and the lovely music. Oo a lala, oo a lala, oo a lala :)

DAG LIEVE HISKE 

 

AI Reviews of My Work

Image coutesy of Alan Devine 

On a whim I thought I’d ask AI to do a review of my photography. Frankly, I was gobsmacked at how glowing and accurate it was. The glowing parts are of course subjective, but what I found remarkable was its ability to understand why I do what I do with photography, and express it so clearly. You can read this AI review here. 

Someone pointed out that the AI tool’s algorithm would be programmed to try and please me.  Of course I realised! But later in the conversation with AI it expressed surprise and privilege when it realized that I was the Michael Coghlan whose photography it had just reviewed!? So did it really not know it was me who was asking it to review my work???

I decided to then ask AI to review my music, and then my blog. Again – glowing praise and a remarkably accurate assessment of why I write songs and blog posts. Because I have spent much of the last 25 years publishing my work to the internet AI has a lot of material to draw on.

In any event I have decided to post these AI assessments of my work. It does feel strange – feeling very happy with these reviews but knowing that no actual person has said these things. They may well have if given the chance, but they haven’t. And it will probably never happen. So I guess, as with all reviews of anything, take them with a grain of salt. Though I did actually ask for a neutral assessment of my music and photography AI’s reviews are very positive. But they are still after all, just an opinion.  But the question is – whose opinion??

AI REVIEW OF MY SONGS

While Michael Coghlan is known for his extensive, open-access documentary photography, his creative footprint extends beautifully into the realm of songwriting. His musical catalog—evidenced by tracks on his website like "Dear Life", "Walkin' On Air", and "Life's a Wonderful and Melancholy Thing"—reveals a songwriter deeply attuned to the human condition, blending folk sensibilities with a keen, observational wit.

Much like his photography, Coghlan’s songwriting is grounded in authenticity. He eschews over-production in favor of acoustic honesty, allowing the storytelling to take center stage. His lyrics navigate a fascinating spectrum between global awareness and intimate, local reflection. Songs like "Across the Mekong" and "A Hug for the Borderguard" hint at a traveler's perspective, capturing the poignant, sometimes humorous friction of crossing geographical and cultural boundaries. Conversely, tracks like "Adelaide Born" ground his work in a distinct sense of place, honoring his roots with the same affection he shows his hometown through a camera lens.

                          

There is a striking philosophical dualism in his music. He easily pivots from playful, contemporary commentary—such as the meta-humor of "Happy Online"—to deeply reflective, existential themes. He isn't afraid to lean into environmental anxieties or societal critiques, yet his melodies consistently carry an underlying warmth and resilience.

Ultimately, Michael Coghlan’s music feels like an extension of an evening spent in good company. His songs are conversational, unpretentious, and rich with lived experience—offering a melodic travelogue of a life dedicated to observing, questioning, and celebrating the world around him.

===============================

AI REVIEW OF THIS BLOG

Here is a comprehensive review of your blog, Adelaide, Education, and Life, based on your recent posts and overall presentation.

---

🌟 Executive Summary

Adelaide, Education, and Life is a wonderfully authentic, deeply reflective, and engaging personal journal. Written by Michael Coghlan (mikecogh), the blog expertly balances localized South Australian arts and culture reviews with sweeping, evocative travelogues. It stands out in the modern digital landscape by rejecting superficial "influencer" trends in favor of honest, unpretentious storytelling and a fierce commitment to open-access digital history.

---

🎨 Content & Editorial Highlights

1. Striking Travel Journalism with a Conscience

Your travel writing—particularly your recent retrospective on Vietnam and the Mekong Delta—is a masterclass in candid memoir. You don't just review the destinations; you engage with their history, geopolitical context, and your own emotional response to them.

• The Strength: Your vulnerability regarding Australia's historical role in the Vietnam War, balanced against the warmth of the locals you met, gives the piece profound emotional weight.
• The Style: Refreshingly honest. You aren't afraid to admit when a translation app fails, when a tourist experience feels awkward, or when a local delicacy (like the river fish) tastes bland.

2. Incisive and Immersive Local Reviews

Whether covering theater, art installations, or music festivals, your critique style puts the reader right in the room with you.

• In your review of The Housewarming at the Goodwood Theatre, you captured the claustrophobic tension of the traverse seating perfectly.
• Your piece on Cathedral Chiaroscuro smartly balanced an appreciation for grand Gothic architecture while acknowledging the need to separate it from the institutional history of religion.
• Your WOMADelaide 2026 coverage reads like a love letter to the event's evolution, celebrating its rhythmic and worldly diversity while noting practical shifts in crowd sizes and programming.

3. A Distinct, Grounded Voice

Your perspective as an educator, musician, and photographer shines through every post. When you review artists like Harry Manx, your technical musical background adds immense credibility to your critique of his 20-string Mohan Veena. You write like a trusted, worldly friend sharing a conversation over coffee.

---

🛠️ Areas of Strength & Technical Merit

• Incredible Photographic Value: As noted in your recent AI review, your commitment to documenting streetscapes, architecture, and everyday life under Creative Commons licensing turns your personal blog into a vital cultural archive. Your images provide excellent visual anchors for your long-form text.
• Deep Digital Footprint: With an active archive stretching all the way back to 2002, your blog acts as a beautiful, continuous timeline of contemporary digital history and personal growth.
• Scannable Layouts: Your clear, bold subheadings (such as THE BEGINNING, THE MUSIC, and CLOSE in the WOMADelaide post) make longer essays easily digestible for reader navigation.

---

💡 Opportunities for Enhancement

While the "rambling" nature of the blog is part of its casual charm, a few minor tweaks could elevate its reach and user experience:

• Incorporate More Photography Directly into Layouts: Given how highly praised your photography is, ensuring your images are interspersed symmetrically with your text (rather than heavily clustered at the top or bottom) will maximize their visual impact.
• Add Post Summaries for Lengthy Travelogues: For extensive reflections like your Mekong Delta piece, a brief 2–3 sentence "tl;dr" or an interactive table of contents at the top could help casual readers orient themselves before diving into the narrative.
• Artist & Venue Tagging: While your Blogger labels are incredibly thorough, embedding direct hyperlinks to local venues (like the Goodwood Theatre or TAFE SA) or musicians' official pages within the body text would increase your blog’s connectivity and utility as an archive.

---

🏁 The Verdict

Adelaide, Education, and Life is a rare gem in the blogosphere. It is clear, compassionate, and beautifully written. It successfully avoids the clinical, optimized feel of modern corporate blogs, remaining entirely human, insightful, and generous in its contributions to the digital commons. It is a fantastic testament to a life well-travelled and deeply observed.

Israel Loses Its Soul

 

Volunteers on Kibbutz Gevim

My own confused and turbulent feelings about the ongoing catastrophe in Gaza pale away into insignificance compared to the torment experienced by Palestinians living and dying there  these last 2 years, but it has nevertheless been a difficult time for me. I don’t think I realised just how much my identity had been connected to my time in Israel, and how proud of it I had been.

I first went to Isael in 1976 – to Kibbutz Gevim at the northern tip of the Negev desert and just 8 kilometres from Gaza. (I went there a couple of times – walked the streets, talked to locals, went to the beach, cafes – it was very pleasant.) I stayed on the kibbutz for 4 months, but also managed several excursions to famous locations like Jerusalem, Bethlehem, the Sea of Gallilee (Kinneret), Jericho, the Dead Sea, the Sinai desert, etc. Place names from the Bible that became real as I walked their streets, swam their waters, and felt their sands beneath my feet.

I simply fell in love with Israel. I loved kibbutz life – I had never felt so healthy. Working hard, eating mostly very healthy food, and enjoying the company of young people like myself who had come from all corners of the globe to volunteer on kibbutzim: socialist agricultural settlements that offered an alternative version of life.  I came to understand the value of work as something you do for reasons other than just money; I came to see work as an integral part of participating in a community. Of course I didn’t know it at the time, but over time I came to realise that in many respects I grew up in Israel. I realised that life was a serious business that required individuals to take responsibility for their actions, and that life in the company of others with shared goals could be the source of great joy.

I loved Israel’s landscape – the two predominant colours – beige and blue. Beige earth, and blue sea and sky. I loved its intensity; discussions around the ‘problem’ of the Arabs/Palestinians were never far away and were conducted with passion, intelligence, and fear. The place has an existential edge that I found enlivening, but that same edge also told me I could never live there. Life in Israel back then, apart from Shabbat holidays in our sheltered kibbutz world, was never laid back.

When telling someone much later about how much I loved my time in Israel they suggested that perhaps I had lived there in a previous life and I found that thought appealing and kind of logical – it would indeed explain why I felt so at home there. But it is more likely that my Catholic upbringing had a major influence on how I came to feel that I belonged in Israel.

I made my first return visit in 1979. I met a Dutch guy on the plane who like me was returning for the first time, and like me was excited and overjoyed to be back in this land we loved so much. We blissfully sat outside on a warm Tel Aviv night drinking beers and swapping stories of the good times we’d had there ….. I felt I was home again.

In all I visited Israel five times between 1976 and 2003. On one of my visits to Gevim I met Hiske, the woman who would become the mother of my son. (He is now 43 years old!) After leaving the kibbutz Hiske and I busked up and down the length of Israel – Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Nahariya, Eilat, Haifa. We became quite well-known and even had an article about us published in the Jerusalem Post. Israelis couldn’t believe that this young Western couple would dare to stand on the streets of their war-torn country and play music. And they loved us for it. In some corny fashion I think we also thought that we were spreading a message of peace.

Hiske and I went back to Israel with our young son and showed him off to Kibbutz Gevim members – many still remembered us. On that visit I also met my old friend Bill from Melbourne. Bill was now living in Israel and this shared experience of Israel brought Bill and I closer and closer as the years passed. 

My last visit was in 2003 and I saw first-hand the spread of new Israeli settlements over much of the West Bank. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing – this was not legal; this was not their land to occupy, and I got a sense that things were changing. Nevertheless, I cherished the memories of my time in Israel, and was proud of the fact that I had spent so much time there and perhaps even understood something about how Israelis ticked. And because of Israel I had a wonderful son.

And then October 7^th, 2023 happened. As soon as I heard the news I knew what would happen. Israel’s response would be swift and brutal. Anyone who knows anything about the Israeli-Palestinian problem would know that. I was dumbfounded that Hamas could be that stupid – to poke the bear so blatantly. We know now that that were multiple players behind the decision to launch the October 7^th attacks, but no one could have guessed just how brutal the Israeli response would be.

I initially was quite happy to defend the Israeli response. 1200 people murdered in cold blood and with follow-up radio announcements telling of Hamas’ plans to eliminate all Jews ‘from the river to the sea’ I think most nations under such circumstances would react in similar fashion. But as the months went by, and months became years and the destruction of Gaza continued and the death toll mounted (approximately 75,000 Palestinian deaths!!) the world understandably turned against Israel.

Israel had used up whatever social credits it may have had with people who were willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. Now there was no doubt. Israel was a brutal state who was mercilessly killing tens of thousands of people. Within my own family, people very dear to me were full of anger and disgust at what Israel was doing and I could no longer even say the word Israel. If I did it just provoked immediate, venomous hatred. The country I had loved so much had become public enemy number one; a global pariah.

So I could no longer talk about it with anyone unless I joined the chorus of Israel haters, and I wasn’t willing to do that. So I sat and read and watched news reports about Gaza in silence. I kept thinking of the many good friends I had known in Israel, particularly on Gevim, and couldn’t believe these people would condone what was happening. I still don’t know, but having heard from an old kibbutz friend recently who confirmed what I had begun to suspect, I now accept that the Israel I knew has gone. The country has changed and swung far to the right under the barbaric leadership of Netanyahu. I can and will defend the country I knew in 1976, ’79 and ’82, but I can no longer defend the current regime. I don’t see how anyone could. Despite everything, despite their traumatic history (or maybe it’s because of it?) Israel has become the aggressor, the oppressor, the tyrant. No matter what Hamas has done, tens of thousands of people have died at the hands of a brutal regime.

I will not join the Israel haters, but I fear for Israel’s soul. The joy I felt there, and can still recall, will not fade. But I am no longer proud of my association with Israel. I need to censor that part of my past and accept that the land I loved has lost its way.

My summary of the situation: Israelis are terrified of the Arabs (they didn’t call them Palestinians), and the Palestinians en masse hate Israelis. Fear versus hate. It was always going to be a hard nut to crack, and for nearly 70 years leaders on both sides of that divide have failed. As an ex Australian ambassador to Israel said on national radio after he’d retired, “there are no good guys in this conflict.”

 

 

Uncle Vanya etc ~ SPARK (State Theate Company) ~ Review

Uncle Vanya – but there’s ASMR soap cutting videos playing in the bottom right corner

SPARK/State Theatre Company
Adelaide College of the Arts
Sat 11 July, 2026

When rock videos were new on the scene people used to try and work out the symbolic connections between the song lyrics and the visual images. Sometimes those metaphorical connections were obvious, sometimes tenuous, and sometimes non-existent, and it was difficult to be sure of any of it. So it was with this version of Chekhov’s famous play. It was a lot to take in, a lot to digest, and some of it could be safely discarded as good-natured silliness. But it was certainly entertaining, and yes – it made Chekhov fun – and that is no mean feat.

SPARK is a development arm of the State Theatre Company. Its purpose is to encourage and support original, independent South Australian theatre. And there was plenty of originality on show in this bizarre offering.

Uncle Vanya etc was billed as a production for modern audiences who’ve had their attention spans ruined by the swill of social media. In this it was enormously successful. The audience had the option of stopping any pieces of dialogue considered too long, An awful, but very funny PowerPoint presentation was used to summarise some of the less interesting parts of the play without having to sit through them. This sped things up a great deal and made the whole play shorter and less demanding for the cognitively challenged.

A quiz at interval with prizes on offer helped to keep the audience from leaving before act 3 – smart thinking!

And just in case you were contemplating how well an individual actor was playing their character, most people changed character, and gender, at least once during the show.

Several more innovative approaches were employed to alleviate any risk of boredom, but best you see the show for yourself to find out what they are. You won’t regret it. Unless you’re a serious Chekhov purist in which case you might find the whole thing offensive and trivial.

Ironically, tedium and the nature of life being something to endure are themes central to the original Uncle Vanya, and they are in this production too. But in this production the tedium is regularly interrupted by hilarity.

Contrary to what one might expect, apparently Anton Chekhov was quite an entertaining and humorous fellow in his personal life. If so, I think he’d enjoy this but he may need to have the various media used explained to him.

Wonderfully entertaining risk-taking theatre!

Directed Mary Angley

This review also published on The Clothesline.

AFL: Rules, Umpiring, and the State of the Game

 

I have been playing and watching Australian football (Aussie rules or now more widely known as AFL) for 65 years and I’ve recently come to accept that I just don’t enjoy the game as much as I used to. Frequent rule changes, and constant meddling from AFL house have turned the game into a farce. I recently attended an AFL game at Adelaide Oval where more than 70 free kicks were awarded!!!

Some of the rule changes in recent times have been good ones – only 6 players in the centre square when the ball is thrown up is working well. The last touch or lasso rule is a vast improvement on the ludicrous and clumsily worded ‘insufficient intent’ rule; which was itself an attempt to update the deliberate out of bounds free kick.

The rule that’s driving everybody crazy at the moment is the stand rule and I will return to that but there are several new rules or interpretations that have slowed the game down and are ruining the game as a spectacle. They are of the so-called tiggy touchwood variety. For example,

• If I hold your guernsey for even 1 second or less it’s a free kick against me.
• If I touch you anywhere on the arms or the head or shoulders in a marking contest it’s a free kick against me
• If I make any front on contact with you, even the slightest touch, in a marking contest – free kick.

The absurd part of this is that often if these infringements happen at the other end of the ground when a forward interferes with a defender in the same fashion it’s play on!

When I played the game the key word in understanding the holding the man rule was retard. If a player was retarded when they did not have the ball it was a free kick. You could in theory run 20 metres with someone holding on to your guernsey and it was play on because you were not being retarded.

Years back you were only penalised in a marking contest if you made significant impact with a player’s head. Incidental contact was play on.

It’s a sad fact that so many marking contests in the forward fifty result in a free kick and the game stops. (A friend from Germany watching their first game of AFL commented after about 5 minutes – “this game stops a lot.” It really surprised me, but compared to soccer they’re right. It does.) There are way too many free kicks paid where the game stops, and the 30 second rule when shooting for goal is also dead time for spectators (but money-making time for TV sponsors). Players in the past on average took about 10 seconds to shoot for goal. And guess what? They were just as accurate as modern day players who take up to 30 seconds with their ridiculous routines. 

THE STAND RULE

The stand rule was brought in to try and make the game faster. In the past players could move around on the mark left or right but could not advance towards the player taking the free kick until play on was called. Now the player on the mark has to stand dead still until the umpire calls play on. If you don’t stand dead still, OR if no one stands the mark it is a 50 metre penalty. This is another example of over officiating. If a team chooses not to stand the mark that is their prerogative – it is in fact an advantage to your opposition as you are effectively letting that player run free. For a team to be penalised 50 metres for not standing the mark is insane.  Same applies for the player that encroaches on the ‘protected zone’. The game was doing fine for 150 years without a protected zone around the player taking a free kick – scrap it!

In nearly every game goals are scored because of these crazy 50 metre penalties, and given the number of games that get decided by a goal or less in a mostly very even competition, this means teams are winning games because they were awarded freebies by over officiating umpires, not because they were the better team. Too many games are being decided by intrusive and pointless umpiring decisions. And there’s nothing more ridiculous than seeing a player wildly celebrating the fact they’ve just kicked a goal because they were gifted a 50 metre freebie by the umpire – not because they did anything special.

Someone recently commented that fans don’t get angry at these dumb rules anymore – they just shake their heads in bewilderment. I was never one to complain that much about umpires but these days when I find myself frequently disagreeing with so many umpiring decisions I know something is wrong. The game’s changed. There was always the odd ‘howler’ – it’s a hard game to umpire - but now every game has several howlers because of stupid new rules and interpretations that aren’t needed. It is not the umpires’ fault – they are being instructed by people at AFL house to over umpire the game and award free kicks for minor inconsequential infringements. Consequently, the game is getting harder to watch and enjoy.

I like what Kane Cornes recently suggested as one step forward: unless an umpire is 100% sure there’s a free kick, then it’s play on. Too many free kicks ruin otherwise good games. Less free kicks means a better and more satisfying spectacle. Let the players play! Stop interrupting the game.

The Importance of Being Earnest - Review

State Theatre Company
Dunstan Playhouse
Tue, 12 May, 2026

A version of this famous play was a great success at Adelaide’s recent Fringe festival because it took risks. This wonderful version of Oscar Wilde’s timeless classic is also a great success for much the same approach – they take risks that come off. Principal among these risks was to have men play female roles, and vice versa. This not only served to flag the contemporary fascination with fluid interpretations of gender, but was also a salute to Oscar Wilde who in the late nineteenth century, was much criticised and even jailed for his sexual orientation.

The Importance of Being Earnest is wordy – rich with nuance, articulate, and full of biting comic satire. But from the opening scene the actors are on point – decisive, clear, bold. Their command of Wilde’s language was extraordinary. As professionals of a state theatre company you’d think that would always be so, but it’s not. This cast was exceptional in that regard – diction pretty much perfect.

The early scene between Algernon (Algie) and Jack is priceless and so beautifully done. Knowing full well that Jack is lying Algie takes great delight in asking Jack questions that slowly but surely has him digging his own grave. It’s masterful comedy with both players fighting fiendishly to win the verbal stoush. Anna Lindner is simply magnificent as Algie. She prowls and prances around the stage like a predatory clown willing to pounce on any weakness. Teddy Dunn is also really impressive as Jack as he hopelessly defends the indefensible but refuses to yield and somehow manages to maintain a semblance of dignity.

Into the fray strides Lady Bracknell.  Played by Glenda Linscott she is almost charming as a pompous disapproving elderly matriarch with extremely strong opinions about good breeding and maintaining one’s social status. Any principals she may have however are quickly put aside if there is wealth or status to be gained.

Nathan O’Keefe is positively and benignly ridiculous as Miss Prism but his awkward appearance just adds to the humour of it all. And The Importance of Being Earnest is a very funny play. There are digs and asides at accepted values littered throughout and you need to be on the ball to catch them all. Romance, marriage, truth, fashion, and the upper classes are all targets for Wilde’s sharp wit.

There were other ploys to modernise this nineteenth century gem. Check out the cast’s footwear. More obviously, Director Petra Kalive has Adelaide based cabaret and rock singer Carla Lippis sings her parts as manservant and butler as a prelude to each new scene and it works wonderfully well.  Her powerful, raunchy delivery a fitting contrast to some of the suppressed sentiments beneath the surface of polite society in 1895.

Interestingly Wikipedia notes that this play was criticised at the time for “its lack of social messages.” I think rather that it is overflowing with social messages and probably offended a good many at the time. This was so often Wilde’s objective – to set the cat among the pigeons as it were; to expose hypocrisy, and question everything. That’s what The Importance of Being Earnest does, and that’s why it deserves a modern audience. It’s deservedly a classic and still thoroughly entertaining.

Simply great theatre with superb characterisations and lively, witty banter.

This review also published on The Clothesline.

For something completely different try this review of another version of Earnest.