I’ve read nine versions of Sophocles’ Antigone. The famous Jean Anouilh script (and that, at last, is his name spelt correctly). Some knackered old Penguin translations by E. F. Watling and Robert Fagles. An OUP version by H. D. F Kitto.

A ‘new’ version from 10 years ago by Declan Donnellan for the Donmar Warehouse. Full of hope, I read a newer version by Seamus Heaney, The Burial At Thebes. It was beautifully bound but for performance purposes, it was a sorry disappointment.

I read a very old version by Walter Hasenclever, courtesy of Mr Aldred, written in 1917 but because the man thoughtlessly didn’t die til 1940, it’s still JUST in copyright.

And predictably, I’ve gone for the most recent, most sweary, most overtly violent version, courtesy of Owen McCafferty. I am a child of my time. And again, endebted to my friend Mr Neill who pointed me towards this ‘new muscular version’ in the first place.

Now midst auditions. I hope we can do it violent justice.