Oh yes they are
At first I’m not sure. The production company has emailed me a secret address in Dublin’s Docklands, but everything seems strangely quiet. Then I pop my head around the door, and hear the dull, unmistakable throb of Queen’s Under Pressure.
I walk up the stairs. The music gets louder. I begin to feel the stomping of feet; hear the snappy shout of a choreographer. I open the studio door, and panto-monium hits me square in the face.
