The Bard’s evil Richard sticks, whatever the truth

We all know that the Shakespearean “history plays” aren’t actually history. But even so, they are the way history is really passed down. This week I saw Richard III at the Globe’s indoor theatre. It was excellently acted and surprisingly funny, even if it took time getting my head around a fully able-bodied Richard III played by a woman (par for the course nowadays).

Even more than Shakespeare’s usual, this play is out-and-out Tudor propaganda. It’s unsurprising given that we are dealing with the man deposed by the then-reigning monarch’s grandfather. But even though we know all that, it still sticks. Richard III is unremittingly wicked, for pure love of chaos and cruelty. He will not tolerate peace, even under his brother’s or his nephew’s rule and his deformities – the bent back and withered arm – are testament to his corrupt soul.

Well, as we now know for certain, thanks to the discovery of Richard III’S body in 2012, Shakespeare was not making up the bent back. And he was a bit of a plotter, given the disappearance of his royal nephews during his protectorship. He probably wasn’t the epicentre of all the court’s intrigues and injustices, yet the evil image sticks because of Shakespeare’s famous depiction.

Nearing his end in the play, the king is racked by conscience but suppresses his doubts and marches into battle, declaring: “Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our

A fully able-bodied king played by a woman (Sophie Russell): par for the course these days law.” Was Shakespeare drinking the Kool-aid or was he making a subtle dig against his own predicament? The “strong arms” in his day belonged to the Tudors, who are the play’s heroes, and so, therefore, did the bard’s conscience.

As the row over Big Ben’s bongs indicates, Parliament’s renovation programme is ramping up. In the lobby of Portcullis House, officials have erected a wonderfully detailed model of the building planned to house a temporary House of Commons. It is on the site of Richmond House (itself on the site of Richmond Palace, built by the first

Henry Tudor, who was also the heroic Earl of Richmond in Shakespeare’s play).

It looks rather nice – though models always look nicer than the real thing – and I have no doubt that MPS in some of the more decrepit parliamentary offices are looking forward to moving in, if they are still MPS in 2025.

The Elizabeth Tower housing Big Ben will be one of the first parts of the old palace to be fixed up – but not in time for Brexit. It seems to me just as well the bell won’t ring. The sound of a muffled chime issuing forth from a half-repaired tower covered in scaffolding is hardly the way to ring in a new era. We would simply have to suffer a fresh round of smug metaphors from Brussels types.