How do you stop people from getting scared by the word ‘feminism’? Why do we live in a world that presents the size zero as the bodily ideal, and any normal, curvaceous figure as greedy, uncontrollable and lazy? Why is it desirable to have about as much body hair as a child’s plastic doll? An hour spent in the company of these three performers will tackle all these infuriating questions, and is guaranteed to not only emancipate but educate - helping to eradicate any negative self-image the audience may have, as well as exposing the reasons behind these neuroses. It is no coincidence that the venue is a cosy cafe, which feels like a feminine and nurturing space.
As a mouth-watering entrée, Someone’s Mum (aka prize-winning poet Liz Lefroy) opens the show with a collection of poems, monologues and interactions entitled The Seven Rages of Women. Here experiences of childbirth, therapy, moods, freedom and buying one’s own flowers are discussed with passion. As the mother of two boys, my particular favourite was ‘Why there are so few female characters in Lord of the Rings, Transformers, Star Wars and other films through which I have slept’; a deliciously ironic commentary focussing upon the sorry reduction in female protagonists on the big screen over the last decade. Special mention should also go to ‘Wanted in Seven Mood States’, in which marvellous use of metaphor really displayed Lefroy’s talent as a poet.
Next comes Jay Walker with her seductive story in three voices: ‘Now and Then and Way Back When.’ Walker meanders through her experience of love affairs with both words and women, seeking (and finding) solace in her own body and repossessing the descriptions that have been used derogatorily. Like the literary lovechild of Jeanette Winterson and Allen Ginsberg, Walker’s words are inflected with alliteration and tight timbre, exuding dizzying eroticism that envelopes the audience and renders them agasp.
If Walker was the plat principal, then Miss Beaton’s Buns & Baps was the pudding we may not have had room for, but devoured with gusto because it was so inviting (“There’s more? Oooh, go on then”). Do not be taken in by the apparent lightness and ease with which she dishes out the double entendres, whilst briskly beating at her batter; Miss Beaton’s message is a deeply critical diatribe against the current trend for both sexes to be body dysmorphic. Cocking a snook at learned prejudices, she declared that “Now it’s f*ck this sh*t o’clock,” and encourages the delighted audience to have their cake and eat it, literally.
This show is three courses of joyous womanly celebration that reaches out to all sexes in an all-inclusive and very welcome hug. Take a plate and tuck in.
