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Clive Sullivan: 1943-1985

Tonight’s the night, then. The first night. When we find out if the thing works or not, if audiences are willing to join us on the journey, if it’s going to generate laughs, or tears, or both. It’s the not knowing that makes you feel anxious and insecure and walk around with everything crossed all day. This will be a long day. A day when thoughts of the subject matter, the late, great Clive Sullivan, constantly fly around my head. They let me write his story. Can you believe that? Heading to town to buy cards and presents for the cast, buy a new t-shirt, maybe have a drink and to generally do anything that will stop me thinking about 8pm, Thursday May 18.

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