I wrote this piece of doggerel about Harold Pinter some time ago. Not sure how or why it came about. I always liked Pinter’s work; I saw him as the Ernest Hemingway of playwriting – never write 20 words when a pause will do. The Caretaker I particularly liked, along with No Man’s Land.
HAROLD PINTER WAS AT THE ROYAL COURT TODAY
I was at the Royal Court today and saw Harold Pinter
Oh yeah?
He spoke to me.
What did he say?
Asked me where the loo was.
No, he fucking didn’t.
You’re right, he didn’t.
He asked that American shitbag Le Butt…Le Bute…Labute
How do you know?
He told me.
Who…Labute?
Yeah.
No, he didn’t.
You’re right, he didn’t. He wasn’t even there. Fuck, I wasn’t even there.
My Writing Life 