Censorship

Anyone who's ever had their work overseen by a more conservative body probably knows that pain of censorship, not to mention the annoying angst of wait, can we say that? that comes with it.
Now, I get to experience censorship's manifold joys as we begin rehearsing our new production, Tom Stoppard's Arcadia. The play is witty, hilarious, and deep. Sadly, after reading the script, many of us dread the announcement of which laugh-out-loud lines were going to be sacrificed to the puritanical censors. When my director said that only the F-word would have to be excised, we cheered.
Still, we may not be safe. Arcadia commits some of the cardinal sins of "adult" work.
- It uses real words, the kind people use in everyday life (read: the kind of language the school administration would like to pretend none of us know). Somehow, I doubt they were all hit on the head and forgot that none of these words are unfamiliar to, well, anyone. Still, they probably won't be happy when Hannah is called a bitch. And, I think if someone actually used the F-word, heads would roll.
-In between historical debates and philosophical interludes about the nature of truth and time, Stoppard's characters talk about sex -- the force they didn't teach you about in physics class. The administration lives under the misguided impression that nobody knows what it is. I think they're hoping that if no one mentions it, then nobody will ever figure it out. Too bad for them. I just want to see my administrator's face when they get to the line "the Byron lot will get their dicks caught in their zips." It should be priceless.
Bugger censorship. Who needs it? If someone doesn't like the picture, they should look at something else. Though, since Arcadia, isn't showing anything but the real world, I wonder what there will be left to look at.