James Graham, the playwright with the surest of political touches, was a captivating castaway last week on Desert Island Discs. He chose a keg of single malt and Pulp and revealed that as a 10-year-old he took to the ice rink – as a stripping vicar. He described the central importance of the theatre in his home town of Nottingham, where he scribbled plays while employed as a stage-door keeper – and paid tribute to the tiny Finborough in Earl’s Court, who encouraged him early on. He also talked ardently about the stage as a generator of hope: strange that in a Netflixed age people should still gather in the dark to listen together to a story.
I hope the Labour party tuned in. I’m encouraged by the shadow culture secretary, Thangam Debbonaire, saying she’ll push for arts to be at the centre of school curriculums, but she must push it further. Keir Starmer last week gave a clarion call: arts for everyone. Labour should be as proud that he can play the flute as it is that he plays five-a-side.
