Mojo Book

Since I don't like Harold Pinter's plays or Samuel Beckett, it is not surprising I don't like this one. It is unsettling to be negative about a drama that has received an avalanche of praise and awards. Four male twenty-somethings and one male thirty-something talk mumbo jumbo in the backroom of a nightclub while the body parts of the owner, Ezra, lie in two dustbins on stage, the new rave rock-star, Silver Johnny, 17 years old, is tied up and hangs upside down, and Baby, the son of the owner, thrashes around with a cutlass sword. After a lifetime of buggery abuse from his father, he is unsurprisingly psychotic and has already sliced off the head of the entrepreneur - offstage of course - so who else will he kill? Meantime, I have to get back to my sensible life, my shopping list and visiting my aunt.
Freak Out! My Life with Frank Zappa