Tonight Jen and I decided at the last minute to check out the longest running show at West End, Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap. It has apparently been showing since 1952 and at its current home for more than 30 years. So, for something that has lasted so long, I was expecting something pretty special. I don’t think that is what we got.

It is around the 1930s, it is the dead of winter and the blizzard has kicked up around Monkswell House, a new boarding lodge out in the middle of nowhere. The radio is on and we hear about a murder in London then, as the play progresses guests, expected and unexpected, slowly trickle in. The arrival of a policeman brings with him the threat of more murders and suspicion amongst the guests. We were asked to keep the secret of the play a mystery so I’ll stop there.

For a whodunit I just wasn’t interested. The first half of the play is entirely too slow and by intermission it wasn’t a case of me wondering whodunit but rather wondering when it was going to come to an end. Maybe being up in the Upper Circle (where views were not the greatest and I had people behind me constantly whispering and sometimes talking loudly) meant we couldn’t get as involved as those in the Dress Circle or Stalls. Maybe.

Overall, I guess it was an okay form of light entertainment and it did improve a little bit in the second half. Still, I’m glad we didn’t spend the extra money to get better seats.