WTF, Will! parts 19 – 20

Much Ado About Nothing left me in a good place, so the thought of another comedy coming up was quite welcome. But would it deliver the goods?

19. The Merry Wives of Windsor

If I could change the title it would be this: Falstaff, part III, Die Hard with a vengeance.

Poor Falstaff – painted as the life and soul of the party in Henry IV part 1, and a waste of space in part 2, he is now having a very bad day at the office.

Feeling a bit brassic, he decides that despite being old, and fat, and a drunk, his new money-making career should be … wait for it … gigolo! Obviously.
He picks a couple of wealthy Windsor wives, sends them a letter each saying he fancies them, and then expects everything to just drop in his lap, literally.
Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t work.

As regards insults, there’s a fair bit of knogging (no idea), sometimes to a person’s urinals (which does sound painful, to be fair), and one guy is declared a ‘vlouting stog’ and told he’ll have his noddles smited, which can’t be nice.

Falstaff himself gets called ‘old, cold, wither’d, and of intolerable entrails’ (must remember that one).

But he does give the best directions for how to exit a room with style: – ‘Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince.’

Weirdly, for Tolkien fans, Bilbo and middle-earth are also mentioned.

4/10

And then it was onto number 20. Not only a famous play, but a famous event in history. So, I wasn’t expecting a lot of surprises with this one.

Well, shame on me. I came away feeling so nonplussed the only possible review I could give was a letter from old Julius himself.

20. Julius Caesar

Dear Mr Soothsayer,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well.
However, despite your warning, I am neither of those things. Because – and I don’t wish to criticise but – you had one job!

ONE.

JOB.

WTAF Mr Soothsayer ?!?

Of all the most unutterably pointless things ever said, ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ has got to be in the top five.
That’s like saying watch out for Wednesday.

How? How exactly was I supposed to beware the Ides? They were going to happen whether I bewared them or not?

Were you, perhaps, suggesting I should go out because a comet was about to flatten my house, or – and this is pertinent, I feel – stay home to avoid some particularly miffed mates? Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, but a little clarity would have gone a long way.

May I venture to suggest that, ‘Beware the Senate,’ would have been more effective in preventing my current situation? Or, better still, ‘Stay well clear of back-stabbing Cassius and Mr Smiley-pants Brutus’.

I’d like to point out that twenty-three is a massive number, Mr Soothsayer. That’s how many times I was knifed by those treacherous, slime-dwelling, bottom-feeding bastards. For someone who does ‘visions’ for a living, didn’t you notice the guys with the pointy sticks? Or think it worthwhile to mention them?

May I suggest that, given the evidence of your obvious shortcomings in your chosen profession, you retire immediately and endeavour to live a long and useful life?
As long as you possibly can, would be my advice.

Because I shall be waiting, Mr Soothsayer, oh yes.

With kind regards,
Julius Caesar
Emperor of Rome (retired)

5/10