A 16th Century theatre critic reflects on the industry

 Let it be known that in the year of Our Lord 1600 the Muses departed this sceptred isle, never to return.

The English no longer possess the art to fashion an entertainment as virginal as Her Majesty.

This conclusion weighed heavy on my soul as I contemplated the bleak reality that London must endure yet another bloody Hamlet reboot.

@HenryLawson: Classic Australian authors in 2012

It is a cliché now to speculate whether Shakespeare, were he alive today, would be working in Hollywood, churning out scripts for hits like The Full Montague and Shrew 2: Katharina Strikes Back.

Jane Austen would probably find a publisher if she included more bondage scenes while the BBC could keep Oscar Wilde on retainer just in case something happens to Stephen Fry.

But what of Australia’s cultural champions? Where would Banjo Paterson, Henry Lawson and Norman Lindsay find work if they were to stumble out of some Federation-era time machine?

Quoth the writer evermore . . .

THERE are a handful of things in this world that both impress and perplex me at the same time.

The Rolling Stones are one. The songs are great but do they not realise how ridiculous they look tottering across the stage in their late 60s?