So Daniel Radcliffe received rave reviews today for his role as a troubled – and naked – young man in Peter Shaffer’s “Equus”, and I couldn’t be happier for him, if only because the project could have been a disaster and he would have been absolutely freakin’ crucified for it if it hadn’t worked. The boy can act! Hurrah!
I am a bit miffed, though, because I had a free front row ticket for the first night of previews but the bloody thing fell through, and now not only am I too poor buy a ticket (£50 – yikes!) but a million drooling Harry Potter fangirls have bought every seat in the theatre from now until the end of time anyway.
Still, the thought of spending an evening only a few feet away from Dan’s dangly bits was a strangely disconcerting one, so I’m secretly relieved. Not that there’s anything wrong with them (as far as I know), but I’m old enough to be his mother and he’s very young and kind of cute and I really shouldn’t encourage my brain to think those kind of thoughts. Therefore, I can announce that both he and I had a lucky escape. Silver linings and all that.
One thing, though: the front page of The London Paper tonight had the greatest headline ever…
“DANIEL RADCLIFFE’S PENIS WOWS THE WEST END!”
And, just for an instant, I imagined his willy walking onto stage, doing a little dance, singing a song, possibly juggling some balls and then, with a final wink at the crowd, shuffling off into obscurity again.
I’d have bloody well paid £50 to see that.