
Well that'll teach me NOT to bounce too much before I've listened past the first few minutes.
Fair dos: interpreting a thing like this must call for just a LITTLE bit of love for every sentence, otherwise it wouldn't sound as classy as it does. And Mr Velvet Voice delivers beautifully, as do rest of cast. But this is one depressing heap of

.
Pinter is appropriately named, IMHO: I'd like to bet he'd sunk a few pints when he wrote this masterpiece, and anyone who's listening to it now will wish they had a pint or two inside them. The characters sound like the spawn of Eeyore - not that Eeyore would sink low enough to reproduce

. Well, maybe after a few pints, he would.
I'd like to know: is this sort of scenario a Pinter trademark? I spy some commonality with
No Man's Land: lithe-bodied young chaps, sharing houses with old blokes in seedy rooms with dubious preoccupations...
I'm wondering what trousers MK's character would wear...

Impossible to 'hear' the straining seams, but (ha-ha, Lesley!) 'vagabondage' conjures images.