Frank Lloyd Wright said that television was chewing gum for the eyes. But Frank Lloyd Wright designed expensive buildings that looked like leaking toasters, so, you know, he’s a schmuck. 

Television is the window to my soul. As a child of the ’80s I was educated by Sesame Street, romanced by The Biz, comforted by the mass murders of itv3, rocked to sleep by The Review Show and taught the meaning of funny by Father Ted. I learned the art of innuendo from Blind Date, learned the art of testosterone from Gladiators, learned the art of scab-chewing boredom from Going for Gold and learned the art of geriatric masturbation from Richard and Judy. Actually, that last one was more a lesson in grey-tracksuited psychological warfare than TV entertainment, but hey.

However, the crossover between television and theatre is one that causes me some trouble. In the words of my own personal Dalai Lama, ex-Apprentice contestant Stuart Baggs, it’s a bit like having sex with your sister: familiar, but deeply wrong.

I get telly – it sits in the corner of the room and makes my eyes tired – and I get theatre – I sit in the corner of the auditorium and it makes my brain tired – but when the two media start to merge, I’m like the proverbial hedgehog in the fog.

With Dr Who (David Tennant) and Donna Noble (Catherine Tate) currently rehearsing Much Ado About Nothing, Sherlock Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) playing Frankenstein and Fiona Gallagher (Anne-Marie Duff) playing a Shameless adulterer in Cause Célèbre, the divide between small screen and spot-lit stage is getting blurrier than a badger in a Magimix.

Of course, getting a well-known television star on stage is a great way for theatres to bump up their revenue. Swap bums on sofas to bums on seats and you will have a profit on your hands, not to mention an Olivier award (don’t pretend you didn’t recognise Sheridan Smith from Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps – nobody likes a snob). 

Why else would theatrical legend Janet Suzman attempt to turn Sex and the City’s Samantha from man-eating Manhattan PR in to man-eating Mediterranean queen for the Liverpool Everyman’s production of Anthony and Cleopatra?

Not content with a bit of actor cross-pollination, Liverpudlian writer Jonathan Harvey went one step further; turning 50 years worth of Coronation Street scripts in to the two-and-a-half hour stage play Corrie! performed at The Lowry as part of the Street’s anniversary celebrations.  Now, as writing gigs go, that sounds about as much fun as stuffing a melon up your nose, but each to his own.

Perhaps the secret to a successful TV/theatre crossover is to flit between acting platforms like a spendthrift at all-you-can eat buffet bar. Nobody shouts “beam me up!” when Patrick Stewart takes to the stage, Anna Friel is hardly plagued by dad-burying soap roles and few of us can even remember that John Simm once starred in Rumpole of the Bailey.

Remember, when it comes to straddling television and theatre, if all else fails, there’s always panto.

Much Ado About Nothing will open at Wyndham's Theatre on 1 June and run until 3 September.

Image of Dr Whospeare by Narcsville.

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