The Pinter double bill The Lover The Collection at the Comedy Theatre last night was decidedly less than enthralling. Harold Pinter’s sharp eye for comic satire was drawn to the fore by director Jameie Lloyd, but it wasn’t handled subtly enough for me. What I like about Pinter’s work is his ability to weave such wonderful tales of mystery and repressed middle class carnality, but honestly, you’d find more sexual menace in an episode of Rainbow.

I blame Gina McKee’s femme fatale mostly. Her lascivious sliding across floors on all fours made me feel decidedly off kilter. I thought she was going to tip over at one point and she sounded like Mary Poppins on 60 a day. Not sexy.

The homoerotic posturing in The Collection was well intentioned, but looked over-egged. Too much obvious staring at groins. It was as if the director was standing in the wings stage whispering to the audience, “Psssst! Look! They’re doing alpha male macho posturing, with an undercurrent of sleaze! Do you seeeeeee?”

Still, you can’t help but admire the work of a great playwright, even if you don’t like the interpretation put before you.

So in future, I think I’ll stick to my usual Monday night routine: sharpening the kitchen knives and ironing my suspender belts.