After a year of gathering up my courage, I succumbed to the inevitable and read the Cursed Child. This was a mistake that couldn’t be avoided, but I still wish I hadn’t done it – or rather, I wish this dreadful story had never come to existence in the first place. It was worse than I could have imagined. While reading, I could feel my grasp of reality crumpling away. An endless loop of some sinister variation of Yakety Sax that kept tooting loudly in my head until I felt like crying, and once I had fought my way through the text, the topmost thought in my head was “what the hell was that shit”.
The following post contains major spoilers of this awful mess that is Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Read no further, if you wish to be spared.