The posters keep leaping out at me, like it's personal. Vanessa Williams, the US singer and actress is set to play fashion boss Miranda Priestly in a musical version of The Devil Wears Prada. First a book by Lauren Weisberger, then a movie starring Meryl Streep, and now a musical with tunes by Sir Elton John. And those posters are everywhere, specifically this week, from Somerset to Sussex, Dorking to Victoria.
And, you might ask, why am I noticing this? For surely I have no interest in a musical. About fashion. But then, because it's just ourselves, you and I, in this hushed confessional - let me tell you a little, dirty secret. I like musicals. A lot. I especially love the Sound of Music and even more particularly, Annie. I go crazy for My Favourite Things, I'm obsessed with Tomorrow. So, of course, I also love I Dreamed a Dream, from Les Mis, and I'm a sucker for some of those jukebox musicals, especially Mamma Mia.
Furthermore, I'll admit I like a bit of Barbra Streisand, or rather a very great deal of stuff like Evergreen, Guilty and Woman in Love. Which news I deliver sitting firmer and more upright in my seat, chest out, determined that you also appreciate my veracious and true heterosexuality.
Hence The Devil Wears Prada catching my attention, tempting me in to sample the genius of Sir Elton who, I gather, has an extraordinarily gifted work method by which, studio and piano booked, he is given the lyrics and knocks out a complete song in around 20 minutes.
Except that, as I consider this more deeply, I realise that I'm kidding myself. In truth, I like the songs from musicals, or rather some of the songs from some musicals. Because, let's face it, most musicals draw you in on the strength of a song, or maybe two.
The stories, or "book" as they call it in musical theatre, are weak, though not as weak and absurd as in opera, and feel hastily written. As a member of the audience, you also have to tolerate that half-spoken, half-sung gurgle that occurs when someone stops talking and thinks it's time they sang a song. And the cynical commercialism that is jukebox musicals aside, you get about one good tune for every dozen (think Send in the Clowns from A Little Night Music or Summertime from Porgy and Bess). Plus, in some musicals they have tap-dancing, which is almost as offensive as Morris dancing.
They also cost an absolute fortune which means that, far from being jewels in our cultural crown, they are, as Gerald Ratner described his gems over 30 years ago, quite frankly 'total crap.'