Ask Auntie Trash: R U Gettin' Enough

Hi Auntie Trash,

I’m not an actor, I’m not really involved with theatre in any way, but recently I’ve been wondering: just how incestuous is the theatre world?

I know that actors and other creative types get together, but what about critics? Do critics get to have sex with actors and creative types, too? I guess what I’m getting at, is, are YOU getting enough, Trash?

Much love,

Your Future Husband xxx

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Dear Future Corpse,

Oh gawd. Oh Lord.  There’s a lot to unpack here. Too much. Dude, seriously, whoa.

I liked your email, because it demonstrates everything I hate about the human race at the moment. Your words read like some of the worst press releases I’ve ever received; even worse than the ones who claim we have met, more horrific than the ones that try so hard to act like we’re friends when we’ve never spoken before.

From start to finish, the words you vomited on the screen irritated me, more than that time that comedian emailed to ask if I would please interview his penis. This was, from what I could gather, a real request, and not a plea for the critic lady to be nice to the sad comedian.  From the cutesy 'I’ve been wondering' to the main course, where you ask me just how often I have sex, to your sign-off, where you tell me that we are going to be married in an oh-so-adorable way.

Marriage is bullshit, and so is your email. You want to know about sex, try not to sound like a 13-year-old boy by asking, 'Oh, do actors have sex with other actors? I’ve always wanted to know, oh man, check me, so #RANDOM.'

You are not #random. You are, from what I can tell, an actual grown man with actual life experience, who judging by this email hasn't been laid enough and just wants to see where the boundaries are. I am happy to oblige. Yes, of course, the theatre world is incestuous; it’s a village. Errbody knows errbody, and if they work together, you can be sure as hell that actors will also have sex with each other. And directors, and writers and designers and whoever else. It happens, sex is good, let’s move on from this, and quickly.

The thing is, we don’t automatically have a right to know just who is balls-deep in who, and whether it’s just a casual fling, or, maybe even, the real thing. You have no right to this information, and crucially, neither do I.

This also applies to your question about me. Am I getting enough? Well, sunshine, just this once I will humour you, because I have a deadline and Christ knows we all need a little bit of joy right now. I am a theatre critic, what the fuck do you think? Do I have people queuing around the corner from The Skinny office, just waiting to service me? Do I have to throw them food and blankets on the nights when it gets a little too chilly, and they’ve been waiting oh so long just to be in my, uh, presence? I’m not near a window so I can’t tell. Are they there? Will they ever be there?

If you’re not picking up on the subtext here, the answer is NO. NO I AM NOT GETTING ENOUGH AND LOL. This isn’t your business, stay in your lane, go out and make a happy life with another human and stop sending creepy messages to people that you don’t know on the internet.  

Go away,

Auntie Trash