To say that there was audience participation would be to understate the proceedings. During the highly charged mayhem throughout, we were splattered with ‘shit’, (oh yes, the toilet scene lives up to its promise), found ourselves eye-level to exposed genitals, and in my own case, had my glasses tossed to the floor by a maddened Begbie and was later ordered to sniff ‘smack’ by Renton.

This was as joyful a theatrical experience as one could wish for. Performed outside on Brandon Hill’s verdant and tree-lined slopes, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men played to a crowd of several hundred, who drifted away into the summer night afterwards with warm smiles on their faces . . . this was timeless Elizabethan theatre at its best.