Peter panned for petrification

I SEE where the parents of a three year old boy in England plan to sue a theatre whose production of Peter Pan left him "absolutely petrified". Within minutes of the curtain going up, little Morris Mitchener started sobbing "Get me out, get me out!" and tried to hide under the seat.

Morris's parents are taking legal action over the child's "stress and trauma".

I do not see why the child's tender years should be an issue here. The older I myself get, the more stress and trauma I suffer at most theatre productions. I have often been reduced to sobbing in my neighbour's lap, sometimes before the curtain has even risen.

In the days when participative theatre was all the rage nobody took any notice (indeed, I was once or twice applauded for my "performance"), but in recent times I have been hushed quite angrily.

All right. Not very funny.

The whole position of grannies in today's world is a more serious underlying issue. Morris's grandmother bought the theatre tickets for the family as a treat for her 61st birthday. What thanks did she get? "My own grandson now calls me Nasty Granny for taking him to the theatre."

I sympathise with Morris's trauma, but his attitude to a kindly grandmother does not predispose one in his favour. Of course, the notion of a child being "spoiled" is hopelessly outmoded, but I would have to ask if Morris is being educated in a manly way. The fact that he attended the theatre armed with a plastic sword is no proof that his upbringing has been free of malign feminist influence.

It may be that Granny chose the production deliberately in a subtle attempt to introduce Morris to the realities of life. If so she deserves to be applauded. If on the other hand it was her private revenge on Morris for unspecified misbehaviour then fair play to her, too. Either way the child has learned a valuable lesson.

Good may yet come out of this if just one child has been permanently alienated from the theatre. The whole notion of the theatre as "treat" is quite ludicrous since for the most part it exists to show what a terrible business life is.

But look. Granny herself may well counter sue for defamation by her grandchild. "Nasty" is a cruel description. I only hope for Morris's sake that he has checked, out all his facts, sought and listened to the other side of the story, is able to prove his assertions through witnesses, documents that will stand up in court and notes of the checks he has made.

Will he be able to argue that what he has said is not capable of being regarded as defamatory, either in its ordinary sense or by virtue of an innuendo?

If it comes to court the judge may of course take the view that Morris's "nasty Granny" slander is of a transient nature and soon forgotten (depending on Granny) and therefore not punishable criminally.

Morris should be made aware by his solicitor that words spoken, however scurrilous, even though spoken personally to an individual, are not normally the subject of indictment, unless they directly tend to a breach of the peace, as when they convey a challenge to fight.

In the light of this, it will be important to ascertain if Morris was still carrying his plastic sword when he chose to upbraid his granny. I hope he has a good lawyer.

But look. Say you are a parent. You want to take your child to a nice show. Peter Pan has just opened. You check on the author.

You discover that at the age of six, one of J.M. Barrie's brothers died in a skating accident.

To comfort his distraught mother, the boy impersonates his dead brother, dressing in his clothes and even imitating his way of whistling. By the time of his mother's death, the child has become so used to the role he can never escape it.

The child grows to manhood begins to write. His (probably) unconsummated marriage ends in divorce. He forms a peculiar friendship with a married couple, and when they die, devotes his life to their five orphaned sons.

One is killed in the first World War. Another, Barrie's favourite, drowns. Peter, named after what he himself called "that terrible masterpiece", throws himself under a train 20 years after the author's death.

Child or adult, you enter Never Never Land at your own risk.