The buzz is building as First Night approaches. Suddenly obscure aunts with considerable facial hair that used to scratch you as a child, old friends you thought had forgotten you while they had babies and that new enemy you need to keep an eye on come out of the woodwork. There’s close family to consider, new and old lovers, agents, press, people who can’t stand the sight of each other: it’s a diplomatic nightmare, let alone a tiresome administrative chore.

Well, it was before we got on the case. We know who’s who, where the

bodies are buried, who can’t be seen next to whom because their clothes

always clash, darling… whatever the details, we’ll master them.

Because, frankly, it’s the last thing you want to be doing as the

public performances approach, isn’t it?

We’ll get to the bottom of your particular private preferences and problems, balancing the list with all the diplomatic finesse of Prince Klemens Wenzel Von Metternich at the Congress of Vienna (when the rest weren’t having, ahem, congress). We’ll keep records, too,

so that it will be even easier next time.

And – bliss it was in that dawn to be alive – you’ll even have someone else to blame when

Great Aunt Bertha complains. As she will.

We could give you chapter and verse on some of the biggest and brightest openings of recent years, but that would be naughty, and we’ll leave that to you.

George Bernard Shaw