For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

The Mousetrap ensnares tourists (30.11.12)

The definition of a Londoner, it could be said, is someone who hasn’t seen The Mousetrap, the world’s longest-running stage play, having played over 25,000 performances since opening in November 1952 over six months before the Queen’s Coronation.

Written by Agatha Christie as a radio play entitled Three Blind Mice and broadcast in 1947, she rewrote the whodunit for the stage and The Mousetrap was first seen exactly 60 years ago this week, opening at The Ambassadors Theatre on 25th November 1952 before transferring to its present location, the beautiful St. Martin’s Theatre next door 22 years later.

The play entered the record books on 12th April 1958 becoming the longest-running show in the history of the British theatre (shows didn’t have the longevity they do today).

The first leading roles were played by Sir Richard Attenborough and Sheila Sim and over time 382 actors have appeared in its production. David Raven entered the Guinness Book of Records as the ‘Most Durable Actor’ for his 4,575 performances as Major Metcalf and spare a thought for the late Nancy Seabrook who spent 15 years as an understudy.

Even the scenery must hold some kind of record lasting 50 years before being replaced in 2000, without a loss of a single performance, still faithful to the original design.

I saw the play in the late ’60s (does that make me a non-Londoner?), and you expected the entire production to appear in black-and-white as the set and dialogue were reminiscent of the early British films.

The theatre seats 550 and in the foyer many tourists have themselves photographed by a wooden sign informing the audience how many performances have appeared on stage. Most don’t go to see the play for it is part of the London experience with the audience as much a part of the proceedings as the cast.

The person who probably has the best experience of The Mousetrap has to be Agatha Christie’s grandson, Mathew Prichard, to whom she gave the rights to the play on his 9th birthday.

The producer and promoter of the original production was Peter Saunders, married to Katie Boyle who in the 1960s presented The Eurovision Song Contest which brought viewers’ attention to the memorable line ‘Nul points’ – strange that.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Scandal at the Café Royal (23.11.12)

The Café Royal is due to re-open soon with much of its original features still intact. If any of its early customers chose to revisit the hotel after nearly 100 years they would immediately recognise it, unfortunately, Regent Street the road it occupies would be unrecognisable to its architect John Nash.

When in 1929 the new Regent Street was proposed the architects had every intention of building a new Café Royal and they were astonished when there was an outcry from across the world at the prospect of the beautiful Café Royal being destroyed. After a long campaign, which included representations from the Royal family, a compromise was reached – the interior of the dining room, with its magnificent decorative scheme, would be carefully removed and then when a room the exact size of the old room had been built in the new Café Royal the old interior would be slotted back into place.

The hotel was originally conceived in 1865 by Daniel Nichole-Thévenon, a bankrupt French wine merchant fleeing his creditors with just £5 in his pocket.

Later the Café Royal would flourish under the ownership of his son and at the time was considered to have the greatest wine cellar in Europe. By the turn of the 20th century, it was the centre of fashionable London, numbering among its guests dining at the hotel’s Grill Room or Empire and Napoleon Suite: Winston Churchill, Graham Greene and Elizabeth Taylor.

Some of the first boxing rules were written down in the hotel by the National Sporting Club, which held black-tie dinners before fights held there. A 1950s boxing ring complete with blood stains was auctioned by Bonhams prior to the hotel’s recent refurbishment.

Over the years the Café Royal has seen its fair share of scandal. In 1894 the night porter was found with two bullets in his head, a murder which was never solved.

The hotel’s most famous scandal arose during a conversation (the last civil one both men should engage with each other) between Oscar Wilde and The Marquess of Queensberry.

The Marquess, who instigated the hotel’s boxing matches, and whose name is associated with the sport’s rules, confronted Oscar Wilde and his friendship with the Marquess’ son.

Wilde, a serious absinthe drinker would enjoy liquid lunches at the Café Royal, and the dining room would set the scene for the early 20th century’s biggest scandal and the eventual demise of its most popular playwright.

The Marquess confronted Wilde about his dalliance with his son, the spoilt neurotic Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas.

For once Oscar Wilde could not charm his way out of his predicament as he had on numerous occasions. The Marquess of Queensbury stormed out to leave a misspelt card at Wilde’s club: ‘For Oscar Wilde posing as a somdomite’.

For a playwright of Wilde’s stature, the misspelling must have been almost as serious affront as the accusation.

Wilde held a council of war at the Café Royal with among others George Bernard Shaw who urged him to let the matter drop.

In court, Queensberry could avoid conviction for libel only by demonstrating that his accusation was in fact true and furthermore that there was some ‘public benefit’ to having made the accusation openly. Queensberry’s lawyers hired private detectives to find evidence of Wilde’s homosexual liaisons to prove the fact of the accusation. The libel trial became a cause célèbre as salacious details of Wilde’s private life with blackmailers, male prostitutes, cross-dressers and homosexual brothels appeared in the press.

Wilde would lose the case and be himself arrested at the Cadogan Hotel (you now pay a premium to sleep in the same room); put on trial and served two years hard labour for gross indecency.

He would be released a broken man and never return to writing plays to such critical acclaim.