You probably suspected it, but now The Times has confirmed it. Those West End theatre billboards, stuffed full of superlatives and gushing praise, are as accurate as Jeffrey Bernard’s dart-throwing abilities were after a particularly heroic night of drinking.

With a bit of judicious editing, by the simple expedient of leaving out the inconveniently critical words, even a stinker of a newspaper review can be refashioned into a paean of praise by the billboard writers.

Such creativity [in the service of misleading the public], such an outrageously bold way with [critics’] words, such [barefaced] chutzpah, [such a] stunning [disregard for honesty on the part of the billboard writers brings shame on the West End].

[Some might say we are being] hilarious[ly po-faced; that we are] kicking up a high octane-storm [about nothing at all] controversial; [and the theatres will correctly retort that though they play fast and loose with the actualité they do not] break a[ny] leg[al requirements].

[But] what [The Times holds dear is that when a punter buys] a [ticket he deserves to be] treat[ed better than this. He needs to be confident that the £20 he is handing over won’t give him] a night to remember [for] a plot that gallops along [like a comatose sloth, or for] the jokes [that] come [as] thick and fast [as a geriatric stick insect, or] the [creaking] set [that] evokes the age of the Busby Berkeley fantasia [in the same way as a tugboat evokes The Golden Hind.]

[No one — playwrights, actors or humble bottom on seat — can benefit if] this [billboard] farce will [continue to] run and run.