He is also an accomplished screenwriter who has in the past few years turned his hand to writing plays. The results, collected here, hilariously explore serious questions of love, happiness and the meaning of life; they are rich with equal parts of pain and slapstick humour, torment and wit.

    Laugh out loud as they encounter ‘crocodiles’ on the wall, strange African customs and unintelligible Afrikaans accents. Cringe with them as their visiting in-laws embarrass them in front of their new SA friends.If you enjoyed Educating Rita and Shirley Valentine you will recognise Mavis Turner.Set in the 1970s, But Can You Drink The Water? uses subtle observational humour with an underlying pathos to portray the upsets, hurt and changing family dynamics that emigration brings. (The story is based on a 13-part sitcom) ReviewWith a droll, witty, utterly British voice, this manuscript tackles playfully and sincerely the age-old fish out of water tale. What sustains this book, however, is the narrative voice, the dry and self-deprecating humor, and the ability of this author to tell a story simply and well. Publisher’s Weekly reviewer for the ABNA semi-finals.

    His book, You’re Not Helping… is a collection of short comedy articles that guide you through his delightful, inventive, and often nonsensical take on everything from attention-seeking dolphins to home invasions by the The Barenaked Ladies. You’re Not Helping… blends both humor and heart in what literary critics around the world are describing as “technically a book.” Join the 10s of readers worldwide enchanted by Ryan’s unique brand of wit.Ryan Patricks lives in San Francisco via Philadelphia. He is an aspiring comedy writer and once saw John Cusack at a Jamba Juice. You can follow him on Twitter @Ryan_Patricks or you can choose not to, it’s totally up to you.

    She makes cheese balls (traditional and smoky) that sustain the existence of her entire religious community, Clusterhaven. However, she feels unappreciated among her Squeamish brethren, and she decides to try her luck in the outside world. Along the way, she meets a Cockney-speaking Ukrainian immigrant couple who find her a job waiting tables at Plymouth Crock, a family restaurant run almost entirely by recovering alcoholics. The alcoholics love her. The customers love her. Her Danderfrock fits right in. Things are going great for Liz, until she's offered a promotion to manager. Unfortunately, Liz has a sweating problem, and to get the job, she'll have to fix it. Meanwhile, back at Clusterhaven, Liz's compatriots just can't seem to duplicate her cheese ball recipe, and it's going to cost them their quaint, cloistered lifestyle. They are panic-stricken and desperate, and sure she sabotaged the recipe. Does Liz go through with the operation? Can the Squeamish be saved? Will the cheese balls ever taste good again?

    Albee there is a theme beneath the surface, in this case the corruption of money and the rottenness of this bigoted exurbia where conformity to its illiberal standards and its hypocritical show of respectability is all that counts. The scene is the suburban home of Jenny and Richard, beautifully played by Barbara Bel Geddes and Barry Nelson. The only thing that seems to stand in the way of their happiness is a lack of money. The action starts in an entertaining comedy of manners style. Then abruptly there enters a Mrs. Toothe in the menacing and fascinating person of Beatrice Straight who offers Jenny the opportunity to make more money than they have ever had, to buy a greenhouse and all the other luxuries that they require for their garden and their lives. Richard's realization that their newfound money is being earned by his wife's whoring comes almost simultaneously with the return of their fourteen-year-old son from school and a champagne cocktail party which they are giving to impress their country club friends. As a result, his horror, disgust and rage has to be kept under wraps in order to keep up essential appearances until tragedy strikes, and Richard realizes that the assembled wives are all involved and their husbands are aware and condoning." More than that, they are prepared not merely to justify but defend the ends through which their means are attained and the devastated Richard, left in agonized despair by the ironic events that charge the final moments of the play, must face the fact of his own share in their communal guilt.

    She was beautiful, kind, sweet, and charming--but what's more, she was utterly broke. About to be evicted, he offered her a job too good to refuse ... as his wife. This would be a strictly business proposition and a temporary one at that--Travis needed another wife like he needed a hole in the head. But he'd see to her financial security, and in return, all she had to do was be a loving spouse and charm the family-oriented Kuronabe's into signing a very lucrative business venture. With Jamie by his side, there was no way he could lose. Except that it didn't take Travis long to discover he had a problem with this arrangement: he couldn't keep his hands off Jamie. He couldn't stop kissing her; he couldn't stop spanking her. The closer they drew to the end of their contract, the more Travis became convinced that he had to find a way to make this temporary merger permanent and keep Jamie from becoming his Next Ex.

    

    It is a fast and furious metropolitan crash of people, scenes and decades, as three sisters attempt to navigate their dislocated lives and loves, while their dysfunctional father, a brilliant scientist, predicts global catastrophe.Mike Bartlett's contemporary and directed dialogue combines a strong sense of humanity with epic ambition, as well as finely-aimed shafts of political comment embedded effortlessly into every scene. Earthquakes in London represents modern playwriting at its most exciting and ambitious.It's Cabaret, we've got our heads down and we're dancing and drinking as fast as we can. The enemy is on its way, but this time it doesn't have guns and gas it has storms and earthquakes, fire and brimstone…. You were the glimmer. At the end of the tunnel. And you went out.