This undercover scenario – which gave Collins the idea for a ghost story – is the basis for a theatrically improvised and distortedly mirrored article in Cameron’s funny-sad drama, in which the characters illustrate, to a rather contrived degree, the ways in which compulsive storytelling offers a compensation for failure and emotional disappointment.When his mother has to go into a psychiatric hospital because of the philandering of his doctor father, the bookish 14-year-old David (sympathetically played by Rory Jennings) is billeted for the summer holidays on his working-class aunt and uncle.Everyone, it seems, is attempting to escape from misery through stories. Wilkie Collins is enjoying something of a theatrical vogue this autumn. Andrew Lloyd Webber has turned The Woman in White into a big-budget musical; and now the Victorian novelist features in a real-life escapade that is the germ of Gong Donkeys, a new play by Richard Cameron, set in contemporary Doncaster.
In the late 1850s, Collins travelled to the town with his friend Charles Dickens, who, on the pretext of writing about the St Leger horse race, fulfilled his ambition of visiting the young actress Ellen Ternan. Not even a particularly effervescent Paul Rutherford could fill that hole.

Horn changed the sound of British pop, but you still need charisma to make it work live.. But the star of the Jerry Springer musical, Ross Maloney, gave a Stars in Their Eyes impression of Holly Johnson. “Poison Arrow” and “Look of Love” depended just as much on Horn’s long-term collaborator Ann Dudley’s orchestral arrangements. With an impressive big band behind them, Fry’s band could swagger with conviction.Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s return fell somewhat flat.

Once banned by Radio 1 for its depravity, “Relax” was now a party anthem fit for Prince Charles, in attendance as the gig was to support his eponymous trust. Lexicon of Love was a key album, where Horn defined an era’s sound not just with his pioneering use of the sampler, but in his audacious vision. A backhanded compliment from Martin Fry, of ABC, suggested they could not stand his overbearing attitude – and his being right all the time. Only one artist has stayed the course, and Seal showed why with a puppy-like eagerness to energise the crowd (though, between songs, a startling timidity for such an imposing physical presence).ABC came away with the most enhanced reputation. The indie kids Belle and Sebastian, now refashioned as a sharp pop band, returned the favour with a lively “I’m a Cuckoo”, powered by a propulsive brass section.Despite being provided with sure-fire hits, most artists only recorded one album with Horn.

Grace Jones sashayed across the stage in flowing cape and Batwoman costume, but only to perform “Slave to the Rhythm”. In a gross injustice, Dollar, the duo with the infamous burger-van owner David Van Day, got to do two numbers, despite sounding more holiday-camp act than perfect pop.What connected these acts were albums or singles on which Horn had left as much of an imprint as the artists, so we were spared anything from his lacklustre Nineties period, when Horn was jobbing for Tina Turner and Tom Jones More recently, Horn has reasserted himself. One of the Eighties’ great lost bands, Propaganda, re-formed for the occasion, delivered only an urgent “Dr Mabuse”. Wembley’s vast stage was packed with instruments as brass, strings and backing singers lined up.