Lucky

In the current revival of Waiting for Godot, John Glover's Lucky reminded me of a blown racehorse wrecked by too many times round the track with a rider who didn't spare the whip. With stringy hair and reddened eyes, he wheezes and coughs most pitifully, cheeks working like a mad puffer fish. His voice echoes his spindly limbs, reedy and trembling, yet capable of enduring....and rambling.

Quaquaquaquaqua.

Poor wretch.