This two hander begins with both actresses acting out a dumb show to a music track. One is clearly a vicar, but until the dialogue begins were not sure of the relationship between the two. Eventually it becomes clear they are mother and daughter, and the daughter is a prostitute with a young baby.
Set in Edinburgh, it takes a while to get going. In fact there isnt dialogue in the true sense of the word, as what we have here are two intercut monologues, which seem to be happening in different time zones. The bulk of the exposition goes to the young prostitute (there was no program so Im unable to name check anyone) and her story of how her parents, both ministers, screwed her up is interesting. She also offers enlightening glimpses of how anyone, even a child of the manse, can realise the power of being sexually alluring, and the financial implications of that. At fifteen she was letting boys feel her tits for a quid at the local ice rink. What we get from this character is an eloquent argument about how recent legislation has endangered rather than helped sex workers.
The mothers story is slightly less powerful, though through her we realise the pun in the title. As a minister she has a very different love to sell than her daughter. Still, as things progress and we piece together how their lives relate to each other the tale gets progressively more disturbing. To give away the plot would be unfair, but suffice is to say it gets increasingly macabre. The director, however, doesnt pace the thing exactly right, and two big potentially shocking revelations go off with a whimper rather than a bang.
The last ten minutes when the girl relates how the she extracted revenge on a punter are unbelievable. Both actresses are very truthful and competent but they just seemed a bit underpowered in what is potentially a much darker, chilling story. We are left with a ray of hope for both these characters in the plays final gesture, but much of what has happen to them is so unbearably savage its hard to believe it wont flicker and die.