Theatre: No sex please, this is a brothel
First Night: The Backroom; Bush Theatre, London
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Your support makes all the difference.SHOCK NEWS: Madonna is currently appearing at the Bush Theatre. OK, it's not La Ciccone herself. This Madonna (a gloriously over-excitable James Lance) is the Kylie Minogue-obsessed screaming queen in Adrian Pagan's disgracefully funny debut play and although he's in charge of the laundry don't expect a re-run of the washerwoman from Toad of Toad Hall.
We're in a male brothel. For the sake of the box-office, I'd love to say that this will send Conservative councillors into a lather, but Pagan's deft handling of his scenario is so hilarious that laughter is likely to drown out prejudice.
As the play opens, the boys are lined up so that an offstage punter can be given a rundown of their specific talents: active, passive or versatile. There's none-too- bright Australian Craig (Luke Healy), trying and dismally failing not to be camp; increasingly desperate Paul (Darren Tighe); deliciously ridiculous deputy madam Dallas (a tremendously funny Patrick Baladi), all brawn and bravado, little brain and no sense of humour. "My abs are that sprung I can lick my own belly."
Then there's the fake East End barrow boy Sandy (Justin Salinger), actually a 31-year-old student looking for love who takes a dangerous fancy to ex-Harrovian newcomer Charlie (Ben Price).
It's a dog-eat-dog world and Pagan raises the dramatic stakes with plot twists and power games built up from forbidden relationships between the lads and secret plans to set up on their own, not to mention that good old dramatic ploy, blackmail. After all, their officious madam, Paul, has a boyfriend who's a closeted England under-21 footballer.
Pagan never lectures about the dangers of being on the game. Instead, he's written a sex comedy in which we see almost no sex, but ideas zip by in enviably assured group scenes, the breathlessly paced, witty dialogue complemented by Jonathan Lloyd's beautifully acted, perfectly choreographed production.
Pagan is at his weakest focusing on the developing central relationship between Sandy and Charlie. But how can you not warm to a play that gets away with a retort as knowingly daft as: "That's the nuclear power station calling the pedal bin filthy."?
David Benedict
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