Tweetingit: 3* Two girls play schoolboys with a different perception of what it’s like to feel different. An intelligent, well observed play raised by some outstanding acting.

In a world where sexual identity is nothing more than a routine conversation piece, Lipstick is hardly breaking new territory. It does however provide a showcase for two outstanding young actors in April Hughes and Helen Aluko. They give substance to a feather light plot and routine script that would have been much poorer without their respective performances.

Tommy (April Hughes) is a boy that likes to wear lipstick, foundation and eye shadow if he can get hold of them. Next door neighbour and class mate Jordan (Helen Aluko) lives with warring parents on the verge of separation. Jordan is a boy’s boy, he plays football and all the girls fancy him (or so he thinks). Yet he is gradually drawn to the sickly and vulnerable Tommy; they momentarily cut loose at a nightclub as they sing I wanna dance with somebody. But what does this mean to them personally. Are they just experimenting or truly finding themselves. How do they feel about each other; is this a friendship, bromance or something much deeper and passionate? There is a curious juxtaposition between what they want and what they need from each other; a geography field trip to Cornwall may well provide the answer.

A gritty northern drama from the very top draw. A taste of honey just got that much sweeter.

Once upon a time, theatre director Joan Littlewood took a pinch of inspiration and mixed it with a cupful of talent to create the Theatre Workshop. Based at Theatre Royal Stratford East the workshop gave many young artists their first break. Lionel Bart’s breakthrough musical Fings Ain’t Wot They Used T’be was directed by Joan Littlewood.

However, her other great discovery was Shelagh Delaney; a precious nineteen year old playwright who presented her with a terrifyingly good play called A taste of honey. It premiered in May 1958 and later transferred to the West End and Broadway receiving critical and popular acclaim.

A heavyweight cast join forces with a heavyweight writer to create a tour de force in theatre; an intoxicating mix of style and attitude. Not to be missed.

The cult of celebrity does sometimes work in mysterious ways; my earliest recollection of Arthur Miller was not as a great 20th Century playwright. But more as the third husband of Marilyn Monroe; a nerdy, bespectacled egghead in the wrong relationship.

It looked a monumental mismatch of two very different legends. I’ve happily learnt otherwise down the years. And now this stunning Young Vic production has transferred to the West End, Miller’s work can be savoured by a much wider audience. Death of a Salesman premiered on Broadway in February 1949, and subsequently won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama and Tony award for Best Play. For a story that’s now 70 years old it still feels remarkably fresh; universal themes are explored in a riveting study of family life that will strike a chord with everyone.

For someone who made his name in stand-up and sketch based comedy, David Baddiel’s first outing as a playwright comes as something of a surprise. God’s Dice sets an examination question that is both daunting and challenging. What would happen if the existence of God could be scientifically proven? It seems a million miles away from the Mary Whitehouse Experience and whimsy of Three Lions. But Baddiel has created an intelligent and original piece of theatre.

Henry Brook (Alan Davies) is a highly respected but unfulfilled professor of physics. His wife Virginia (Alexandra Gilbreath) is a leading writer whose books have set the benchmark for academic research in atheism. The attractive Edie (Leila Mimmack) joins Henry’s class and offers him a proposition; being asked to accept the principles of quantum physics is much like being asked to believe in God. Henry is intrigued by Edie’s assertion; and they begin work on a scientific explanation for miracles in the Christian faith. Virginia is naturally dismissive and wonders if Edie has aroused more than his intellect. Best friend Tim (Nitin Ganatra) is an IT professor and ageing lothario. He too doubts Henry’s claim he is only interested in Edie’s hypothesis. Henry decides to write a book on the subject with Edie as his researcher; he feels invigorated by the opportunity to step out of Virginia’s shadow. When the book is published Edie’s motives become clear as events take an unexpected turn. The origins of Tim’s friendship with Henry are also revealed as skeletons rattle in the closet. Henry now has to decide how finish something he started.

The Tudors represent a tumultuous period in British history and arguably provided the inspiration for Game of Thrones. Henry VIII ruled for 38 years and collected six wives along the way. But who of the six spring most readily to mind; Catherine of Aragon, long suffering first wife, whose divorce sparked the reformation; or the scheming, seductive Anne Boleyn; how about Jane Seymour, the perfect wife who provided Henry with a cherished male heir? But Katheryn Howard wedged between Anne of Cleves and Catherine Parr doesn’t necessarily stand out?

A play solely about Katheryn is therefore long overdue. But some context might be in order before our story begins. In 1540, Henry marries Anne of Cleves using the 16th century equivalent of Tinder. On the strength of a portrait painted by Hans Holbein the deal is duly sealed. But Henry likes her not; he does however like Anne’s Lady-in-Waiting Kathryn Howard. Henry is immedietly smitten by the teenager 32 years his junior. Henry’s marraige to Anne is quickly annulled and Katheryn lined up as his new Queen.