Eccentric Mr Fox
Laurence Fox is sitting, like a giraffe in a box, in his tiny garret dressing room at London's Duchess Theatre. On one wall, brushing the top of his head, hang his costumes. His guitar is propped, ever so casually, against the wall opposite, within an inch of his outstretched feet. Long limbs draped like pipecleaners around his chair, he is glugging Tesco Exotic juice from the carton and wolfing Parma ham straight fr…
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