My book was looking ragged and my Kirk and Spock bookmarks were bent. But I was determined to push on, despite having never heard of a couple of these. And also unaware that the good, the bad, and the ugly were about to hit me full force.

Let’s start with the Ugly, and get that out of the way.

33. Pericles

This was a creepily weird little play where Shakespeare appeared to have tried his hand at porn. Or something. I’m not sure what. Because this could best be described as the secret love child of a Mills & Boon bodice-ripper and a rather unsavoury pantomime.

To be honest, I knew it was never really going to recover when it kicked off with incest, on line 26.
And even though the dad and daughter that were doing the nasty, got burnt to a crisp by lightening, it didn’t help much.

Pericles himself had so many bad experiences on board ship (many storms, a shipwreck, his wife going into labour and dying) that he was the human equivalent of a dead albatross. If he wasn’t the King, I suspect no boat would’ve taken him anywhere.

Of course, the dead wife had to be sealed into a coffin, quick-smart, and lobbed overboard to appease the storm Gods. Then she washed ashore and got bought back to life by someone, Miracle Max probably, because she’d only been dead for five hours (how did they know?).

Once recovered, did she send a message to her hubby, saying ‘hello sweetie – guess who’s back?’ Nope. Just fecked off to a nunnery, and I genuinely had no idea why. However, it did suggest that King P was even less fun at home than he was on board ship, and maybe Mrs King had just been looking for an excuse?

Anyway, his new baby daughter got sent off to live with strangers until she was fourteen – again, can’t explain the reasoning here. And then she turned into as bad a catastrophe-magnet as her dad.

Because her adoptive mum ordered a henchman to murder her, but then she got kidnapped by pirates instead (I promise you this is still Shakespeare, and I haven’t picked up another book), and then finally sold to a brothel.

And now there was a lot of talk, AND I MEAN A LOT OF TALK, about who was going to rape her into submission, and when they were going to do it. At this point I was starting to dread turning the page.

Although there’s an all round ‘happy ever after’ ending, I still felt rather unclean and in need of a shower.

2/10 because subject matter.

But. yay, then came the Good.

34. Cymbeline

This play was completely, utterly, and totally bonkers.

First off, there was a proper wicked stepmother-come-evil queen, and her slithery, thick as a plank son.
Then a King, who was under the thumb of the aforementioned queen. Plus his daughter, a Disney-style princess of unparalleled beauty and goodness.
And to complete the set, an honest, brave and handsome hero.

To get things going there were some potions that were supposed to be lethal, plenty of banishments, a war that needed starting with Caesar, and a sleazy Italian that would do anything to win a bet.

That should be enough for anybody, but wait – there was more!

We also had a couple of princes stolen at birth, and raised in my favourite stage direction so far: ‘Wales: a mountainous country with a cave.’ Just the one cave, then? That would have sent As you like it‘s Celia a-whooping.

But Wales, you say? In the plays so far we’d been as far afield as the Greek Islands, Turkey, Venice, Rome, Milan, Verona and Paris. We’d spent time in the fantasy forest of Arden and the land of Illyria.
And now, suddenly ……… Milford Haven. I’m not even joking.
Here’s the text that proves it: ‘how far it is to this same blessed Milford: and, by the way, tell me how Wales was made so happy as t’inherit such a haven’. To which there is really no answer.

And then the weird got ramped up further by the appearance of a whole family of ghosts, and a quick visit from the God, Jupiter.

I don’t know if Billy Boy was stoned when he wrote this, and I don’t care. I’m just glad he did.

A strong 7/10

And finally – the Bad.

35. A Winter’s Tale

I thought I’d done all the bad dads in Shakespeare, but nope – here was another one.

Leontes started off nice, and he was all ‘this my bestie, great dude, love him to bits’ about Polixenes.

Then, literally within seconds, he went completely batshit. Suddenly it was all ‘my wife’s been unfaithful, so kill anyone who says otherwise, they’re all wrong, it’s fake news. Oh and chuck my new-born daughter into the fire (seriously?) cos I’m sure I’m not the baby-daddy. And yes, I know I’ve got no proof or even reason to think so, but I don’t care. Fuck ‘em.’

And, after he’d lost his daughter, his wife and his son to … plot convenience? … he was all ‘oops, my bad’. I mean, EXCUSE ME? Shouldn’t someone have been darting onto the stage round about then with a nice, white, strappy, huggy-jacket?

However, the bit that really pissed me off was when the ‘happy ever after’ finally came, the bit we’d all been waiting for. And it was just three guys (who didn’t even rate names) that wandered into the stage and described what happened.
The bastards even told us that it was so moving they almost shed a tear. But we didn’t get to see/hear that. So no tears for us then.

For one brief and surreal moment we had Antigonus (who’d just dumped the baby) getting to ‘exit, pursued by a bear.’ But it just wasn’t enough, sorry.

2/10

Next time, I got to read the last of the plays. This would surely be Will at his absolute best. Wouldn’t it? Find out soon.