Shakespeare's Globe Exhibition - London, UK

15th April 2014 - Free

Two bald heroes

1. Out, Damned Blog!

It’s four, five, o years since the Bard got born,

And three, nine, eight since he got made a corpse.

Here’s the best stage to see Shakespeare performed,

But can the Globe’s exhibition hold course?

Shall I compare it to the summer holidays?

It is more noisy and more tedious.

Middle-class kids do shake the dads of May

And for £13.50, are you serious?

I said, “Tuesday’ll be when no one’s seen”

But there were less kids in Bugsy Malone.

I was greatly outnumbered by French teens -

For Harry and St. George, fetch my longbow!

But I wouldn’t let this split our nations, two. 

So, stopped being a twat and said, “apres vous”.

A load of old shit - Henry VI pt 3, Act 4 Scene 1

The Globe itself is rather special

2. Ignorance is the Curse of Blog

With the voice of a Victorian ghost

Our guide was an “eccentric Briton”.

Although she wasn’t your typical host,

It’s fair to say, she had us all smitten.

But there were too many folks in our crowd,

The tour lasted barely half-an-hour,

And as two damned kids screamed ever so loud

I dreamt of the princes in the tower.

Everywhere you look’s got crude sponsorship

Like a non-league Swedish football team’s kit,

But we soon forgot, when the guide rocked our ship,

With a prostitute gag that wasn’t shit.

Though, one point I did wanna make to her:

I’m not here for Mr. Wanamaker!

Nice to see he's picked himself up since his
conscious uncoupling

Problem is, there are no 
Shakespeare plays that contain
Elizabeth I. A spokesman for the
Globe said, "Thing is, we just don't
give a fuck."

3. Cry 'Havoc', and Let Slip the Blogs of War

The exhibition looks like it could double 

As conference hall (ignoring the fake tree).

All that glitters is not gold, there’s the trouble -

‘Cause for £13.50 it fucking should be.

A cheapness to it all, like when the Dane

Compares portraits of father and uncle.

One picture’s a museum of acclaim,

The other’s this one, a carbuncle.

Bring your pince-nez, you’ll be reading for days.

The only true relics are the touch-screens.

And why don’t they cover the fucking PLAYS?

Who cares? Swot! Here’s some costumes of dead queens.

For the works of the Bard, there’s no finer stage.

To learn about him, avoid like the plague!