NEW YORK — You may be tempted upon leaving Sting's Broadway musical "The Last Ship" to head straight to a pub to drain a pint and sing some sea shanties. Or maybe go weld something. Or do both. Such are the foot-stomping, testosterone-filled feelings that emerge from the Neil Simon Theatre, where a blast of British working class camaraderie among steel workers has docked during these times when we only construct things from Ikea.
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