Like my West side Story spoof, this is based a bit on things that have happened during rehearsals. If there's something that makes absolutely no sense, and you're desperate to understand it, e-mail me with the problem.

Duncan is King of Scotland. He has two sons, who must have just popped into existence, since there's never any sign of Mrs. Duncan. They are poncing about the site of a pretty nasty battle, having stood on the sidelines saying things like “What ho! That's right, give him a stab! Oh jolly good!” because that's what kings do. They come across a wounded, yet immaculately gelled captain, who bleeds over Duncan's shoes while he recounts the story of the battle, amid much coughing and spluttering. After a hilarious joke about sparrows and eagles (I'm laughing now just thinking about it), he finally asks for medical assistance, and Duncan tells someone to get surgeons for him. However, while Duncan and Ross discuss Macbeth's career prospects, the captain lies bleeding on stage, un-noticed and unloved. Aaaaaaah.

Meanwhile Macbeth and Banquo meet three witches, who are evil, twisted, manipulative ...... ow! Stop hitting me! Er. I mean they're lovely people, who just fell into bad company at an early age. They give Macbeth three predictions, by saying “Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis/Cawdor/King.” Now this is in fact only two predictions, as he was already Thane of Glamis, so Macbeth should get a refund, but no-one complains. He then starts thinking about being King, and how could he achieve that? Now let's think, boys and girls.......

Macbeth writes to his wife (imaginatively titled “Lady Macbeth”), telling her about the witches. When she hears about the predictions she gets all sorts of ideas, generally involving blood, death, blood, blood, death, and blood. A messenger tells her that Duncan is coming to stay with them, and this puts her into a very strange mood indeed, calling upon spirits to “unsex her here.” This is something which should only really be attempted with lots of very sharp knives, a very clean room, lots of people in white coats, and a machine or two going “ping!” at irregular intervals. However, she seems happy to leave it to “spirits that tend on mortal thoughts,” and who are we to argue? The rest of her speech gets very odd indeed - she seems basically to be on far too many drugs for her own good.

Macbeth arrives back home, along with Duncan and friends. It is here we actually learn that Lady Macbeth's first name is “Sisi.” That evening, Macbeth and Sisi have a big discussion about whether to kill Duncan or not. Macbeth's not too keen on the idea, but Sisi just can't wait to be Queen. (It's a little known fact that the song from “The Lion King,” with a similar title, was in fact originally written by Shakespeare, but Disney bought the rights to it, and then systematically destroyed, “Big Brother” style, any evidence that the song was ever in “Macbeth.” Or not). Sisi manages to persuade Macbeth that killing Duncan would be a “good thing” - it's not that she's a vicious, psychotic, egotistical maniac, or anything. Of course not. Macbeth gives in remarkably easily for a rock-hard highlander - they're meant to be able to crack rocks in their sporrans. Or something. Mind you, that “dashing the brains out” image is enough to make anyone lose their lunch, even a caber-tossing, bagpipe-blowing, claymore-swinging nutter in a skirt.

After dodging Banquo on the way to Duncan's bedroom, Macbeth has a bout of insanity, during which he sees a floating dagger. Is it really there or not? Is this a physical representation of his guilt about his murderous intentions towards Duncan? Is he now just one short step away from wearing his underpants on his head, and telling everyone that he's got a secret invisible friend called Plandra, who lives in a match box? Does anybody really care? Is Macbeth just a total nutter with an unhealthy fascination with sharp objects? Probably.

Meanwhile Lady Macbeth admits to the whole audience that's she's been drinking heavily, which probably explains her lack of confidence in Macbeth being able to stick two sharp bits of metal into a sleeping man. Macbeth returns, and she notices (after quite a while, it has to be said) that Macbeth is still holding the blood-soaked daggers. Because he's too chicken to go back there, Sisi takes them to smear over the servants. She comes back, and they get ready for bed, because that'll prove their innocence to everyone, won't it? Well yes, actually.

We then get the comedy character of the play - the drunken porter. Now if this was true to life, there wouldn't be any of this “equivocator” drivel. Instead, this scene would consist almost entirely of the porter staggering up to Macduff and saying “I love you,” staggering up to Lennox and saying “I love you,” then staggering up to a table, and saying “but I love you the most,” just before he throws up on it. But of course this is Shakespeare, so he somehow manages to speak in flawless English, throwing in an amusing metaphor or two along the way. Yeah right. Most people, after drinking solidly “till the second cock” (and you can take that two ways) wouldn't recognise a metaphor if it came up to them with a big “I'm a metaphor” badge on, and shouted “I'm a metaphor. A METAPHOR!!” Anyway, after the amusing “provoking the desire” bit, we get back to serious drama, with Macduff discovering Duncan's death. In the aftermath to this discovery, Lady Macbeth's line “What, in our house?” would have given the game away to even the stupidest detective, but somehow no-one picks up on it. She collapses soon afterwards, and is left to drag herself off stage, at least until a few servants are hired. Malcolm and Donalbain, fearing for their lives, grab a couple of holiday brochures, and are soon off to England and Ireland on package tours.

Ross and an old man arrive. The old man sounds almost exactly like the first witch (not in this - it's a very long, complicated, confusing, and rather silly (but honestly genuine) story. It involves burning a herd of cows, Julius Caesar, and a very dodgy looking Juliet - just don't ask, right? Well, you can if you want, but I won't be responsible for the psychological damage), and his only reason for being in this appears to be so he can say that immortal line “tis said they ate each other.”

Banquo is starting to have his doubts (read “huge, immense, pulsating doubts”) about Macbeth's route to kingship. He's surprised by Macbeth and Sisi, who are all sweetness and light (you just know they're planning something). Macbeth comes on a bit strong to Banquo with the line “ride you this afternoon?” but Banquo escapes his amorous attentions and goes off for a horse ride. Macbeth gets two murderers from the “Who's Who in Death and Gore”, and tells them to kill Banquo and Fleance. Macbeth then professes his doubts to Sisi, even though he hasn't told her his plan yet. This is probably because she'd think that savagely slaughtering Banquo and his young son would be far too kind.

The two murderers are joined by another one, subtly calling himself “third murderer”. How could you go through life with a name like that? I mean, when filling in an application form to be a nursery teacher, putting your name as “Third murderer” really isn't a good idea. When Banquo arrives they stab him several times, but Fleance, by a cunning trick called “running away”, manages to escape their clutches. With his final breath, Banquo urges him to flee for his life (even though he has a punctured lung he still manages to give a death speech in iambic pentameter - what a literary genius).

The murderers return to Macbeth's castle, where Macbeth is hosting a dinner party. He is understandably a bit annoyed by the fact that Fleance has escaped, and starts to have “saucy doubts and fears”. This isn't really a normal reaction to a failed plan - it's probably a good thing he doesn't go into them in more detail. He then goes utterly mental, imagining that he sees the ghost of Banquo. Whether the ghost is actually there or not is a subject of much debate, but tends to rely on the special effects budget. Personally, I reckon Macbeth had just had rather too much scotch that night, and Sisi has to pretend that he's seeing a ghost just to cover his embarrassment. Well, either that or they're so stingy they just wanted to kick all the guests out so they could keep the uneaten food for their next banquet.

The next day, the three witches are in the middle of recording a new cooking programme called “Crones around Britain” when Macbeth arrives. He demands that they tell him a bit more about what the future has in store for him, and they summon three apparitions, who give him three warnings: to beware of Macduff (I could have told him that - there's a class “A” nutter if ever there was one), that no-one with a human mother can harm him (I think), and to watch out for trees with rather more energy than normal.

He dispatches two murderers to kill Macduff's wife and children (though to be honest, his son really does deserve everything he gets). They are let in by “Uncle Ross,” who just happens to be in Macduff's house, with Macduff's wife, while Macduff's out of the country. Coincidence? Yes. Of course. I mean, this is a family play, except for the death, blood, gore, and severed limbs. They stab Lady Macbeth and her son violently several times (notice a certain pattern developing?). Oddly, Lady Macduff seems to find the whole unpleasant experience absolutely hilarious, not that there's anything funny about being brutally stabbed to death by a couple of nutters. Then again.....

When Macduff hears this news, let's just say that he's not quite in the mood for a verse or two of “What a wonderful world”. It's rather suspicious that Ross delivers this news, considering that he's the one who let the murderers inside in the first place. This either means that he let them in, left, and heard the news of the murders later, or, more likely, he let them in, saw what happened in all its horrible detail, but didn't lift a finger to help. Coward.

In the meantime, Sisi has gone several miles over the madness horizon, and is accelerating. She walks around at night with a lighted candle, even though the torch Banquo used before proves that they have perfectly adequate electricity - perhaps she's a pyromaniacal vicious, psychotic, egotistical maniac. She develops a fascination with personal hygiene, and concentrates so hard on washing her hands that she doesn't notice a doctor and a gentlewoman having a chat right next to her. Personally, I think the doctor should try bursting a balloon behind her - it might not wake her up or cure her madness, but it would give him a laugh. She also tries to get the audience to join her in advertising canned vegetables (by subtly mentioning the beginning of the vegetable company's slogan).

The English army is getting ever closer, and is planning on meeting the Scots near Birnam wood. Macbeth's getting a little bit nervous, to the extent of developing strange and unusual new insults (what the hell is a cream-faced loon?). Seyton the butler (of sorts) comes along to fill up some space, and Macbeth finds out that his wife's mental illness is untreatable. Not a very good day.

The English and Scottish armies have now met up, and initiate a policy of massive deforestation in order to prevent Macbeth seeing how many soldiers they have. I don't know why Macbeth can't just count the trees - perhaps he's got something better to do, like watching dry paint get even drier.

The next scene begins with a very faint noise, which is either the anguished cry of women, or one very ill bacteria coughing - I can't quite tell the difference. Seyton goes off to investigate, and finds out that Sisi has died, either by killing herself, or by dying naturally, or the murderers doing a bit of free-lance work, or something. Does Macbeth deal with this terrible, terrible news by sinking to his knees, resolving never to fall in love again, knowing that no other woman in the world will ever be able to replace Lady Macbeth, his beloved wife? No. Instead he launches himself into a three hour rhetoric, poncing about the stage, never once mentioning the words love, death, Lady Macbeth, wife, or sorrow. What an unfeeling git.

The armies arrive to give him a kicking, and first in is Young Seyward, propelled into battle by his father, saying “Go on, son! Seize the day!” Unfortunately, Young Seyward's sword skills are almost exactly equal to the originality of his name, so he's killed in five seconds flat. Macduff then comes along, and puts Macbeth in a right old state by telling him that he wasn't born of woman, but was “from his mother's womb untimely ripped”. Now I don't know about you, but that does sound suspiciously close to being born of woman to me. I mean, it's not exactly being born of sheep, is it? Still, they fight, slowly and carefully, until eventually Macbeth is killed. The tyrant is vanquished, Malcolm regains his rightful crown, and gives a rousing speech to all his new subjects, which is only spoiled by Shakespeare's unfortunate final line “the Milky Bars are on me!”

Important self-preservation note: No character insults, er, descriptions in this relate in any way to the individual actors, purely the characters. For example, I happen to know that Peter Gunn is actually a highly qualified swordsman, easily capable of winning a fight with almost any sharp weapon - just ask him to demonstrate his skills. You might want to retreat to a safe distance first, preferably wearing several layers of protective clothing.

Updated 29/5/98 by JWES