There’s a sacred hush that falls over a theatre just before the curtain rises. It’s a moment of collective anticipation, of shared breath, of dramatic possibility. And then bam someone’s Apple Watch lights up like a miniature rave, a woman in a fascinator the size of a satellite dish blocks half the stage, and the bloke next to you starts rustling a packet of Minstrels like he’s auditioning for Stomp. Welcome, dear reader, to the maddening world of casual theatre-goers and their baffling disregard for basic etiquette.

Let’s dive into the most egregious offences, shall we?

👒 The Hat Parade (and Headwear Horror)

Why, oh why, do people wear large hats to the theatre? Is it a misguided homage to Ascot? A desperate cry for attention? Or just a complete lack of spatial awareness? I once spent an entire performance of The Crucible peering around a woman’s wide-brimmed monstrosity that looked like it had its own postcode.

And don’t get me started on sunglasses perched atop heads. Not on faces, that would be too logical. No, these are the decorative kind, the “I’m too cool to remove them” kind. I watched A Midsummer Night’s Dream through the pink-tinted lenses of the woman in front of me, and let me tell you, Titania looked like she was trapped in a Barbie nightmare.

⌚ Smart Watches: The Blackpool Illuminations of the Stalls

Here’s a PSA for the tech-savvy but theatre-clueless: your smartwatch has a theatre mode. It’s not just a myth whispered among ushers, it’s real, and it stops your wrist from lighting up like a Christmas tree every time you get a WhatsApp from your dog-sitter.

There is nothing quite like a tense monologue being interrupted by the glow of someone’s Fitbit, illuminating their row like they’re trying to land a plane. If you’re not tracking your heart rate because of the drama on stage, you’re doing it wrong.

🍬 Snack Attack: The Crinkle Chronicles

Unless you’re watching The Very Hungry Caterpillar, there is no reason to bring a full picnic into the theatre. The sound of someone slowly unwrapping a Werther’s Original during a death scene is enough to make even the most seasoned actor break character.

And don’t think you’re off the hook just because you brought “quiet snacks.” There is no such thing. Every bite, every chew, every rustle is amplified in the acoustics of a theatre. You’re not being subtle you’re being annoying.

👃 The Scent Offenders: Eau de Regret

Let’s talk about the olfactory assault that is bad theatre hygiene. You’re packed into Row F like sardines in a sauna, and suddenly you’re hit with a wall of body odour so potent it could be used as a weapon in international warfare. It’s not just unpleasant, it’s transformative. I went to see Les Misérables and ended up experiencing Smells Misérables.

And before you reach for your bottle of Essence of Overcompensation or a floral scented hand cream, let me stop you right there. Overpowering perfume is not the solution. It’s just a different kind of assault. One spritz of “Midnight Temptation” and suddenly the entire row smells like a duty-free shop exploded. I once sat behind someone who clearly bathed in Lynx Africa, and I spent the entire second act hallucinating a teenage boy’s locker room.

Theatre is not a fragrance trial. It’s not a sweat lodge. It’s a shared space. So wash, spritz lightly, and for the love of all things dramatic, remember: if your scent enters the room before you do, you’re doing it wrong.

🎤 The Unauthorised Cast Member: Sing-Along Saboteurs

There’s a special kind of delusion reserved for people who think a theatre ticket doubles as a backstage pass to join the cast. You know the type, they’ve memorised every word of Hamilton, and now they’ve decided to bless the rest of us with their off-key rendition of My Shot, delivered from Row G with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

Let me be clear: this is not Magic Mike Live. You are not invited to participate. If you wanted to sing, you should’ve stayed home and belted it in the shower like the rest of us. Live theatre is not karaoke. It’s not a sing-along screening of Mamma Mia. It’s a performance - by trained professionals - who, shockingly, do it better than you.

And don’t try to justify it with “I just got carried away.” So did Macbeth, and look how that turned out.

If you absolutely must mouth along, do it silently. No one paid £85 to hear your version of Satisfied. We came for the cast, not the chorus of one.

🗣️ Whispering, Commentary, and the “I Don’t Get It” Brigade

There’s a special place in theatre hell for people who whisper explanations mid-performance. “He’s the murderer, I think.” “Is that her mum or her sister?” “I don’t get it.” You know what helps you get it? Watching quietly.

Live theatre isn’t Netflix. You can’t pause it, rewind it, or add subtitles. If you’re confused, read the programme. Or better yet, just accept the mystery and let the story unfold without your running commentary.

🪑 Seat-Swapping Shenanigans and the Elbow War

If you’ve been assigned Seat B12, then sit in Seat B12. Don’t play musical chairs with your mates because “the view’s better from here.” It’s not. And while we’re at it… armrests are not a battleground. Share them. Be kind. Don’t act like you’re claiming territory for the Crown.

🎭 Final Curtain Call: Don’t Be That Person (Seriously, Though)

This article is, of course, written in good humour, we love a bit of drama offstage too. However theatre etiquette isn’t just a punchline. It’s what keeps the experience joyful, immersive, and respectful for everyone.

So next time you head to a show, ask yourself: Am I about to ruin this for someone else?

If the answer is yes — take off the hat, silence the watch, bin the snacks, rein in the perfume, and for the love of Shakespeare, do not sing along unless you’re on the payroll.

Because if you’re going to be part of the magic, don’t be the reason it disappears.

🎭 “Did You Come to Watch the Play or Ruin It?”