‘Bastardi Sumus Absolutam’ (‘We Are Absolute Bastards’) reads the school motto beneath the crest that welcomes the audience on arrival to WitTank’s The School. That such a crude phrase is written in Latin sums up this group’s combination of intelligence and downright daft comedy. In comparison to previous shows’ looser format, this year WitTank produce a series of sketches primarily relating to life in a maniacal boarding school, albeit with occasional digressions.
The concept allows the trio of Naz Osmanoglu, Mark Cooper-Jones and Kieran Boyd to knowingly parody a range of public school stereotypes, from pushy yet absent parents to violently authoritarian masters. A lot of these figures appear in a brilliant opening skit and recur throughout with varying levels of success; the parents’ evening sketch involving Japanese and Russian fathers stays on the right side of offensive, while the absent father routine later on is somewhat laboured and repetitive.
The impression I have been left with when seeing WitTank previously is that Osmanoglu at times dominates proceedings to the detriment of the others’ characters. His sinister and psychotic headmaster certainly threatens to do so here and can come across as somewhat self-indulgent. The character is funnier when used sparingly and properly played off against the others’ straighter figures.
It is instead two of Cooper-Jones’s characters who draw some of the greatest laughs from the audience. His tightly wound choral master perfectly complements a section built around interacting with the audience and his depiction of a man addicted to cheesy snack foods was hilarious. Boyd plays the straight man well throughout, especially in his scenes with an absurdly sentient overhead projector.
One note of caution for anyone planning to see the show with their children: the PG suitability is wholly inadequate for a show that includes this amount of swearing and sexual references throughout. There were a number of young children in attendance when I saw it and did find myself wincing every time Osmanoglu launched into another flamboyant curse, not least because it also felt like lazy writing at times. Despite the title, schoolchildren are clearly not the trio’s target audience either, so the PG rating doesn’t benefit anyone. Apart from this and one truly dreadful sketch that reimagines William Tell as an incompetent variety act with a trailer trash wife, the show is largely more hit than miss and ends on an uproarious note.
