Against all the odds of lack of talent, charisma, sense of drama or decent dialogue, Charli Cowgill and Jack Ward have gone from student theatre to West End.
The blurby bit
The review
Welcome to my review of the second worst thing I’ve ever seen. First prize still goes to 52 Monologues for Young Transsexuals, the first play this pair put on. I unfortunately booked not realising. Incredibly, against all the odds of lack of talent, charisma, sense of drama or decent dialogue, Charli Cowgill and Jack Ward have gone from student theatre to the West End. Both are now be-titted. There is even a new member of the gang, a suitably dour themby, who couldn’t hide her luck to be skivvying for the gworls.
On entering the space, a sticker was placed over the cameras on our phones, as if the performance we were about to witness was worthy of live streaming or keeping for posterity. Charli and Jack gave themselves a hard opening, as they had to stand, ‘dramatically’, for several minutes whilst people tardily filed in. Charli held a chainsaw, which turned out to be a blower (oo-er) and Jack had a Leigh Bowery-type balaclava on, gag inserted. Once everyone was seated, Charli put the chainsaw on and sawed away at Sam’s crotch. Powerful stuff.
A summary of the plot: Once upon a time a woman said something a man didn’t like and the man spent the rest of his life feeling spooked, so it did have a fairy tale quality to it in that respect. In this specific case, the woman was Germaine Greer, and the man, a tranny.
The pair made it sound as if they were quoting Greer verbatim a lot of the time. Neither the pair, nor the piece, deserve inquiry into whether this was actually the case, and their moronic take on her stated views – that men always reveal themselves – was rather proved by their delinquent sexual behaviour. Predictably Greer was treated with the disrespect they think she deserves, which was -shall we say- rather difficult when it was Greer’s own words being used versus their surfeit of incoherence.
Oh!, there was risible dialogue – ‘Do you want a glass of water now!?’ (delivered with such urgency, I laughed out loud) and meaningless audience participation, like pretend burying Germaine Greer or plaiting Charli’s hair (a few sadly showed signs of profundity). You also won’t be surprised to learn that Charli and Jack spent quite a bit of time sexually cavorting, both alone and with each other, spitting in each other’s faces and the like, the final moments undressing completely, whilst todgers shyly stiffened. The revelation: We’re women with cocks! And then everybody clapped. No, seriously. Everybody clapped.
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The Lies They Tell 
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