Example of an inexcusable fuckup: I once saw an Edinburgh performance of Gerhard Hauptmann's "The Weavers", written in 1892 about a Silesian weavers' uprising in 1840. This should have had direct Scottish relevance - we had the Paisley weavers' revolt of 1820, which ended with the execution of Baird and Hardie - the last armed mass insurrection in British history. But the director (a personal acquaintance) didn't even seem to have heard of it, let alone made the connection. Instead we got actors with Gielgud accents playing characters whose position in society was the same as the Paisley weavers - whose descendants spoke in the same language and could have played the same roles far better.

(They also made no effort to research the music - Tannahill and Rodger's songs would have been fine, but instead they went for a recording of Bruckner's Ninth. Bruckner was a religiously obsessed conservative who would for sure have backed the bosses' militia).