At the risk of being presumptuous, here is a tip for writers of biographical plays. Don't write a life's story. Write a life's crucial moment out of which the character, facts and foibles of the subject emerge.
My remit for this piece was how I first got to meet and know Marty Feldman. That's a very abstract question. When do you first meet or know anyone like Marty? He was part of my lexicon from as far back as I can remember. He tickled my funny bone as a writer of television comedies, The Army Game and Bootsie and Snudge, and later, radio's Round the Horne.
If Maureen Lipman was serious when she told this newspaper a few months ago that she would like to play Shylock, she might find a willing home for such a production at Shakespeare's Globe. The theatre's incoming artistic director Emma Rice has argued for an age - and a stage -of gender equality.
The brain and identity have been the subject of some brilliant work recently, not least Nick Payne's Incognito, in which the main protagonist was a man who was tragically unable to remember the recent past.
This is theatre of the close-up-and-personal kind. Richard Greenberg's play, first seen in New York in 2002, is a window into the lives, home and minds of two hoarding, eccentric brothers, Langley and Homer Collyer.
To be simultaneously likeable and hateful, traditional and modern, tragic and funny is a wonderful thing. And in this loving and irreverent version of Dickens's essential seasonal tale all these opposites are embodied by Jim Broadbent's delicious Scrooge.