In 1934 a frail, aged Englishman had his play, Young England, produced. The critics voted it the worst show that had opened in London in 20 years: nobody gave it three nights. It ran, to packed houses, for over a year.
London's bright boys just had to see what the worst show in 20 years looked like. They screamed with laughter at its superpatriotic goings-on, involving gallant officers, dastardly villains, prostitutes, Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, taints of illegitimacy, stolen papers, stolen cash, the Union Jack. They went back for more, and their friends went...
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