It started barely one minute in, with the man sitting in front of me leaning across to his companion, giggling and stage-whispering something into her ear. The woman giggled back and mockingly pushed him away.

I resisted the temptation to whisper a snarky “get a room”. I would only be adding to the noise, after all. So I bit my tongue and kept my peace.

One foul is allowed, not because I really believe that, but because it does get tiring being called a bitch and being on the wrong end of constant dirty looks. Only, it never stops at one foul does it? No sooner had the couple in front stopped necking than the people seated directly behind me kicked off a conversation.

Yep. That's right. A full-blown convo. They were not pretending to whisper, or even to say what they needed to say fast. The ball of tension in my stomach exploded into full-blown acid as soon as the convo veered into

"dan mhux bhall-film imma" (this doesn't match the film) territory. The location was the Manoel Theatre, the production in question last Saturday's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and I was in danger of making everyone hate me when we were barely five minutes into a 2.5 hour play. Awkward.

Once again, I held my peace. Until the bleeding sound of Siri asking her owner what he meant

Once again, I held my peace. Until the bleeding sound of Siri asking her owner what he meant and that she couldn't quite understand what he needed was heard floating across the aisle from the other side. I kid you not. It went downhill pretty fast from there. Phones ringing; a constant muttering in the background; people checking Facebook with the tell-tale light visible from a zillion miles away etc etc…

All this, while the poor cast was delivering a quasi-impeccable rendition of the classic, focusing on some pretty intense scenes and, presumably, wondering why people insisted on going to theatre if all they wanted to do was stay on their mobile and chat.

I shushed. I used my best dirty looks. I harrumphed expressively. And everyone ignored me.

The only acknowledgement I got was during intermission, when the get-a-room couple looked in my direction and started bitching about "dik l-antipatka li sikktitna kienet, ara". Well, the word they used was not antipatka, but for the purposes of this post it will have to make do.

I know I’m the one usually exhorting people to give theatre productions a go. But seriously, not if you’re going to annoy everyone in the process and if you’d rather be anywhere but there. Incidentally, this exact same scenario invariably repeats itself when I’m at the cinema.

Still, at least at the cinema the only people you’re annoying are the rest of the audience. You’re not disrespecting the work of a whole cast of actors who are actually bleeding their guts out all over the boards right there, for your own amusement.

Seriously, people, cut it out. It’s rude, it’s childish and it shows a total lack of consideration to all those who have worked really hard to bring the show together, at a professional level might I add.

The fact that this was a particularly intense and challenging production, as opposed to, say, a farce, only made it worse. When Siri piped up, I fully expected one of the actors to throw something at the culprit. I’d have applauded and shouted for encores.

How about having the ushers actually shaming anyone crass enough to be caught with ringing mobile or runaway tongue?

Here’s an idea. How about having the ushers actually shaming anyone crass enough to be caught with ringing mobile or runaway tongue? All you need is a flashlight and a pointedly polite, “Sir/Madam, kindly switch off your mobile/stop talking”. Shine and shame.

Incidentally, if you have not yet done so, do take yourselves down to our national theatre this weekend, where One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is still running.

Just make sure your phone is off and you put a sock in it while you’re doing so.