The Times - UK (2021-11-11)

the times | Thursday November 11 2021 3

times2

And in today’s court of public

opinion, the jury will hear the case

of The People v James Corden.

Oh dear, has the MCC come for him?

Marylebone Cricket Club?

The Millennial Cancel Committee.

Ah. Sort of, yes.

Why, what’s he done?

He has been accused of crimes

against musicals.

Ha! Wait, really?

Really.

He must have terrible jazz hands.

Among other absent performance

skills, according to the 78,000-plus

people who have signed a petition

against him being cast in the film

adaptation of Wicked.

Ouch. I didn’t know he was in the

running for a role.

He’s not — officially. Fans of the Oz

prequel felt so strongly about

Corden’s possible inclusion in the

project that they got ahead of any

casting announcements.

But why?

They feel that his stage presence

leaves... a little to be desired. By

which I mean he was broadly

criticised for his roles in the film

versions of Cats and The Prom.

Wasn’t everyone terrible in Cats?

Wasn’t that a thing?

Yes, but no one is going to blame

Judi Dench.

So what does the petition say?

That Corden “in no way shape or

form should be in or near” the

production of Wicked the movie.

“We’ve suffered enough,” one

signatory says. “He must be

stopped,” another says on

change.org.

Well, he must be thrilled.

He has yet to publicly address it.

I suspect he won’t.

No?

No. In fact, I imagine he’s at home

in his LA mega-mansion, clutching

his Tony award

and laughing.

Hannah Rogers

The lowdown

The People v

James Corden

Alice Thomson and

her husband, Edward,

on their wedding day

in 1994. Top: Harry

Wallop and his

wife, Vic

us that I should change my name or

we should share a bank account. We

came from two different worlds — he

grew up helping with the lambing,

while I was endlessly taken round

obscure museums. Our marriage

would never have been arranged, nor

would we have met on Hinge. We

were a very 20th-century union.

“Can you think of anyone who

married young and happily in

literature?” I shout up at my daughter.

“No, Jane Austen and George Eliot

thought it was a terrible, plot-ruining

idea,” she says. “Maybe Kitty and

Levin, but I prefer Anna Karenina.

And Romeo and Juliet would never

have lasted.”

She won’t be marrying young. What

about the Queen and Prince Philip, I

say at last, and all those fairytales with

happy endings? I’m sure Cinderella

was under 25: you just don’t hear

about her 60th wedding anniversary.

DAN KENNEDY FOR THE TIMES MAGAZINE; REUTERS; TIMES NEWSPAPERS

I

married at 25, on the day before

my birthday (which is still a more

important date in the year, as my

husband discovered when he

forgot to buy another present the

day after our first anniversary). I didn’t

think I was the romantic marrying

type, but I’ve never regretted it.

We met on the first day at

university. When he proposed on a

cliff edge while backpacking in Africa I

said, “Of course,” but was so surprised

I told him not to worry if he changed

his mind.

It didn’t feel a big deal. I’d barely

been to any weddings. We chose my

dress together. The bridesmaids wore

hideous red, orange and yellow trouser

suits — I’m not sure my sister has

forgiven me. The theme was Adam

and Eve for some reason, and when

the cake arrived before the wedding

there were two marzipan replicas of us

on the top, naked and surrounded by

frolicking animals. My mum screamed,

my dad got on his ride-on lawn mower,

my future husband just covered us up.

We only had a honeymoon for five

days because we had to return to cover

an election. The Times took a picture

of their young political reporter for the

Court and Social.

It felt relaxing marrying young. No

one dared to ask when we were going

to have children, nor did we think we

would have four (although I like even

numbers). It didn’t occur to either of

He proposed to

me on a cliff

edge. I was 25

Alice Thomson

G

etting married at 24 is

hardly the bravest of

Malala Yousafzai’s

decisions — she stood

up to the Taliban and

survived an assassination attempt in

2012 — but I wonder if her friends and

family were momentarily startled, as

many of mine were when I broke the

news of my engagement.

At the point at which my husband,

Tom, proposed that we spend the rest

of our lives together back in 2009, I

was the same age as she is now. And I

did not have a great track record in

making responsible choices.

We met at a Halloween party at

which both of us were, strictly

speaking, gate-crashers, and at which

both of us were splattered in fake

blood. I was renting a room on a

narrow boat from a man my friend

had met at a bus stop at 2am. I had no

career plan. I had a dog but no dog

lead (this is not a metaphor; it was a

scruffy terrier that trotted along next

to me, untethered, and could often be

found sitting happily outside the pub).

The person I am today (roughly a

year older than the current average

age for women to wed) would have

been a far safer bet. I have a pension, a

filing system and an array of standing

orders attesting to my reliability as a

life partner.

If I had met and married Tom at a

more sensible age, instead of just a

couple of months after turning 25,

would I have subjected him to fewer

petulant arguments? Would I have

been an easier partner to be hitched to

for the next 12 years?

It’s possible. But would we have

shared so many impulsive adventures,

seen so many Moroccan backstreets

while carrying backpacks, with barely

any money and even fewer plans?

Maybe not. Would I have been brave

enough to begin carving out the career

I really wanted without his support?

I’m not convinced.

As it was, we each helped shape the

other into becoming the (at least semi-

responsible) grown-ups we are now. In

2010 we had a son, and a daughter

followed in 2013. In 2019 we bought a

new dog. He has three leads. And here

we are today. Still married, still

figuring things out, still unsure of a lot

of things, other than that the decision

we made in 2009 was a great one.

We were the first but, slowly to start

with, then in a rush around our early

thirties, more of my friends began to

get hitched too. We went to

ceremonies in different countries and

of different cultural traditions,

witnessed marriages and other forms

of commitments. We cheered on

couples pledging their fidelity before

having children and after, and when

solvent and when broke. What have I

learnt? There is no perfect age at

which to get hitched, nor are there

perfect conditions either. Just a perfect

confluence of love and luck.

I was the

first of my

friends to wed

Hattie Garlick

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we got married young

Tony award

d laughing.

annah Rogers