It was in 1997 that the very first seed, the acorn that would grow into this masterpiece of Epic Theatre, was planted deep in the subconscious of my mind. I had spent much of the latter part of that year attempting to turn my obvious literary merits to the field of drama, but had grown increasingly frustrated with my lack of inspiration and had subsequently abandoned my work. For the following year and a half, I concentrated solely on my poetry and thought of drama only occasionally, only when my thirst for a project into which I could fully throw myself was not fully quenched by my works in other areas. However, in early 1999, I was at last struck by inspiration, and set to writing a musical detailing the adventures and misadventures of the newly-formed Heidless Chickens. This I devoted my self to for a large period of time, and made progress before finding myself, once again, low on inspiration and high on frustration. By this time, I was due to return to University, and so my mind, once again, was distracted from what I had intended to be my first, great adventure into the world of the theatre. (As of yet, the musical I had but partially written remains uncompleted, although it is my whole-hearted belief that it shall not remain so.) However, inspiration, it is said, is often found in the unlikeliest of places, and thus it proved. The recommencement of my studies proved to be the turning point which I had been waiting in excess of two years for. For it was then that the seed planted so long ago began to bear fruit and I, in my eagerness, saw that fruit, ripe on the tree, plucked it, and put it in my pocket. That fruit was Waiting For Red Fropo.

I have no doubts that critics of the theatre, and the media at large, will have many questions to ask of me concerning Waiting For Red Fropo. There will be complaints, no doubt, that it is too “open-ended, vague, and ambiguous”. If these are complaints which I hear of my work, then a happy man I shall be. Waiting For Red Fropo is, in my humble opinion, a revolutionary text. So often we hear of plays which attempt to “throw themselves open” to audience interpretation, and which endeavour, we are told, NOT to impress upon the audience any theme, maxim or meaning which the audience does not, itself, choose to see. Works of this type, sadly, are too often discovered to be meaningless gibberish, completely incapable of inspiring any real thought in the audience, who are subjected to a series of sights and sounds which can make no sense whatsoever to anyone amongst them. It would be, in truth, a tragedy were such a promising idea to be abandoned because of the so-called “artists” who have for too long attempted to disguise utterly meaningless and incongruous sequences of movement and speech as “theatre”. To this end I have myself devised a piece which I feel certain allows free audience interpretation of events whilst simultaneously ‘channelling’ their thoughts, not in a particular direction, but merely by providing the building blocks and foundations from which each member may build his own version of my play. Therefore, let no critic ask me why the play has no obvious location, no obvious character identification, or no obvious meaning, for it has as many of these as it has audience members. Millions upon millions of subjective interpretations and meanings for my play walk the streets of the outside world, each one of them as completely accurate as it is unique. And I hope that you, gentle reader, find in my text that which you seek.

Thomas Clark, January 2000.