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Drum roll… And the winner of our Shakes-tastic prize is…

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Dramatic drum roll… and the winner of Inside Croydon’s latest, Shakes-tastic competition is loyal subscriber Peter Scott!

Peter has won a pair of tickets – worth nearly £50! – for Thursday’s performance of You’re Bard at the Ashcroft Theatre, tickets provided courtesy of the Fairfield Halls managers, BHLive.

Described by The Stage as “delightfully daft”, You’re Bard delivers slapstick physical humour, and Shakespeare like you’ve never seen before, in a hectic, frantic stage production that will delight all the family (at least those who are older than 10).

This is a hilarious “Shakespearience”, with improv taken back to the days of the Elizabethan Globe. “Four actors. Four Shakespeare shows. Endless possibilities,” say the producers.

You – the audience – decide everything, from the play to the performance style, even which actor plays which part.

Tickets – £23.75 each – are selling fast for Thursday’s performance of You’re Bard. You can book your tickets here.

Peter Scott, who has been a subscriber to Inside Croydon since November 2017, has got his tickets sorted, because he knew that the answer to our quiz question: “What is the generally accepted number of plays to have been written in his career by William Shakespeare?” is 38 (according to the Royal Shakespeare Company, and they should know…).

Scott was one of an email box-full of entries, not all of them correct. And one, from Richard Lander, may not have picked up the prize, but it is certainly worth sharing…

Lander wrote, “‘Bill the Wandle Bard’ – recently discovered, previously unseen manuscripts imply that, in fact, Shakespeare was a Croydon lad.”

Unconvinced? Give these a try:

Hell is empty and all the devils are here in Croydon

By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes down Surrey Street

The lady doth protest too much about the prices in Poundland, methinks

If music be the food of love, play on in the Treehouse disco

The course of true love never did run smooth, just like the tram down George Street

What’s in a name? That which we call Croydon by any other name would smell as foul.

Croydon is such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is
rounded with a nap on a sofa at Reeves’s

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks to illuminate the Clocktower ?

Croydon is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by the eateries of South End

Get thee to a nunnery at Old Palace

All that glisters in the Whitgift Centre is not gold

Friends, Croydonians and Countrymen, lend me your Oyster Cards, I come to bury Croydon, not to praise it

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of Croydon!

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day in Lloyd Park?

To be or not to be that is the question. Whether it is nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous Croydon or to take arms in a sea of grief

Croydon acquaints a man with strange bedfellows

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred supermarket aisle… This
blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Croydon

When shall we three meet again, in Primark, Centrale or the Dog and Bull ?

Much Ado about Croydon

Alas poor Croydon

Timon of Croydon

The Merchant of Croydon

The Merry Wives of Croydon

Beware the Ides of Croydon

Frailty thy name is Croydon

Croydon’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage in the Oval Tavern, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

A horse a horse, all Croydon for a horse

Croydon is foul, and foul is Croydon, hover through fog and filthy air of North End.

I have supped full with horrors in the Restaurant Quarter

All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this town of Croydon

Croydon, and Croydon, and Croydon,
Creeps down Church Street from day to day,
To the last syllable of South London Slang.

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What is ’t you do when the pubs close in Croydon?

If music be the food of love play on in the Fairfield Halls

All that, and poor Richard Lander didn’t win… Bad luck. Good effort. Maybe next time?

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