Like, uhm, dudes, who cares?
Ya ever tried to read any of Pinter's stuff? It's the modern art of modern literature... Sort of "Piss-Christ" on paper, if you get my drift.
"They say that a prophet is not without honour, save in his own country. The same is often true of writers.
This weekend the 75th birthday of Britain's most famous living dramatist, Harold Pinter, is being marked by a star-studded, three-day celebration ... not in London, but at the Gate theatre, Dublin. "A man of 75," says Pinter ruefully, "needs a bit of affection and it's nice it's coming from Dublin."
Meanwhile in his native land the only visible - or audible - mark of the birthday is the premiere on BBC Radio 3 on Monday night of a stunning new work, Voices: a collaborative venture between Pinter and composer James Clarke that deals with man's inhumanity to man.
For the rest the British theatre seems to have adopted Alan Bennett's cheeky suggestion, on the occasion of Pinter's 50th birthday, that the best way to commemorate it would be with a two-minute silence.