As I walked out of the theatre tonight it was snowing. Beautiful, white gentle snow. Movie snow - you know, floating, kissing your eyelashes. Pretty, pretty snow.

Something of a contrast to the story I'd seen; the black filth we commit in the name of what we choose to be Truth. The lies we'll choose to believe in the name of Rightousness. The misery we'll choose to rain down on our neighbours, the very people we chose to call friend before we turned on a sixpence and screamed 'liar' in their face.

The Crucible is as powerful today as it was 50 years ago when Arthur Miller's tale of the 1661 Salem witch trials spun the spotlight on McCarthyism. In early 1950s America Senator Joseph McCarthy led the USA's 20th century witch hunt for the Reds Under the Beds, the Communists who threatened democracy or, if you viewed it from the other side of the looking glass, a smoke and mirrors act distracting America from a desperate, failing right-wing ideology.

And here we are today. Anything sound familiar? Weapons of Mass destruction? Guantanamo Bay? Failing right-wing ideology dressed up in a party frock it borrowed from the Labour party?

The Bolton Octagon's production is undoubtedley powerful. At the heart of the play is Truth and Faith. I'm misquoting badly here but as the couple at the heart of the story John and Elizabeth Proctor wrestle with their conscience, to confess and lie or keep true and face death, the Rev Hale begs them to give in. Admit false guilt and walk away alive.

'Cleave to no faith when that faith brings blood. It is mistaken law that leads you to sacrifice.

'Life; life is God's most precious gift and no cause, no matter how glorious justifies the taking of it. Better God loves a liar than he who throws his life away for pride.'

When a man of the church begs you to lie what hope is there for Truth or Faith? And so Arthur Miller's story of Paranoia, Lies - the vilest part of us that goes looking for the fairytale monsters and sees them on every corner - resonates as clearly today as it did 50 years ago. I dare say in another 50 years there will be someone stood outside a theatre, blinking in the snow, marvelling at dramatic irony and how truly disgusting human beings can be. And a good thing we are reminded of it.