Theatre review: Thai Brides and Tea Cakes
Article published: Wednesday, September 22nd 2010
Moston Amateur Dramatics tackle the topical issue of infiltration of communties by right-wing political groups who look to exploit fears and drive racial divisions. The result is an irreverent comedy that’s relentlessly vulgar – and brilliantly funny.
At the centre of Thai Brides and Teacakes are Ma and Madera, Moston’s first ever same-sex married couple who are now after a baby of their own. Having failed in their attempt to adopt, they turn their attention to finding a suitable sperm donor.
In their search we are introduced to a motley crew of characters from the local neighbourhood. Among them are Ma’s son Melvin, the archetypal Manc scally now turned community centre volunteer; the Grandad, so enamoured by Caribbean culture he now speaks with a Jamaican accent while sipping malt drink all day; and Ding Dong, the 6ft tall and extremely well-built Thai Bride of a local builder whose temperament swings between Oriental charm and violent rage. Perhaps the most comical of all however is the garrulous Mrs Tupper – whose OAP histrionics and stomach-turning sex stories are delivered with panache by a young male actor.
The couple make little progress in their quest for spunk until the arrival of Dickie Moseley, self-proclaimed “mover and shaker” and promoter of the fashionable new ‘White Lightning Party’ nightclub. With his wit and wealth Moseley has everybody charmed and Ma eyes him as a potential father. However there is something sinister lurking behind his pompous gait and talk of ‘clearing out the infestation’; and when he launches a hostile swoop on local properties coupled with a bid to win the local elections, the community soon wakes up to the reality beneath his rhetoric.
The play is neither for the faint-hearted nor possibly even the average theatre-goer: rife with vulgarities, coarse language and crass innuendo, it salutes the bawdy tradition of Dance Hall while its smutty tales and one-liners has the audience torn between cringes and fits of laughter. But at the heart of the story is the changing ethnic composition of communities and how in many areas this has been cynically manipulated by the BNP.
Although the relations between neighbours of different ethnic backgrounds and even sexualities is somewhat idealised – illustrated by Mrs Tupper’s shocking revelation – it is intended to highlight the fact that it is often the presence of right-wing agitators which results in racial tensions, rather than the other way around.
And it is the spirit of defiance which seals the plays finale as the community mobilises to resist Moseley’s electoral ambitions, followed by a speech which lists many of Manchester’s most famous sons and daughters as a celebration of the city’s diversity: “Immigrants and their kids made Manchester what it is!” While the message cannot be denied, it almost falls into sentimentality – before being quickly rescued by a final glorious streak of obscenities.
The players breathe life into the script with their exaggerated Mancunian mannerisms, providing humorous representations of the characters while attacking accepted social norms in true Brechtian fashion. Thus we have the machismo of pseudo-gangster scallies shown for all its ridiculousness; an absent father and benefits fraud referred to as a ‘social entrepeneur’; and in the depictions of vacuous hairdresser girls who aspire to the heights of being a lapdancer, the chauvinistic values which still subtly oppress in society are exposed.
On a linguistic level the actors pin down the local vernacular to a tee, ripping waves of laughter out of the audience with exchanges of insults bouncing back and forwards with the pace of a tennis ball: “I want to be a lapdancer / What – with your scabies?”. All the curses and nuances of storytelling usually heared on the back of buses and in greengrocers are mimicked superbly. And it’s through this language that the peculiarity of Northern humour – one characterised by derision and self-deprecation – is captured in all its glory.
But the mockery is not just confined to the characters, as South Manchester – where “the men wear clogs and the women don’t shave” – comes in for a comedic savaging. As well as poking fun at the liberal middle classes, it sticks two fingers up to the authorities in the tradition of politically-informed popular entertainment. A perfect example is when a social worker, asked why CRB checks are necessary, replies: “it is the government’s duty to treat everyone as a potential paedophile”.
That most of the roles are played by actors of the opposite gender brings a campness which is key to much of the comedy of the performance. Yet it is precisely this aspect which leaves the performance open to the criticism that with its pantomime villains and lack of realism it reduces the reality of right-wing politics to a spectacle, thereby failing to address the social conditions which foment its rise. However this forms part of the dramatists’ strategy – to entertain whilst addressing a prickly subject, without being stuffy or elitist. Profane, puerile and never preachy, Thai Brides and Teacakes reaches out to a broad audience and speaks to them in a language they can recognise.
So it is worth going to? Without a doubt – that is, as long as you are not averse to tales of romping in cemeteries, incessant innuendo, Nazi sex fantasies and a healthy dose of fascist-bashing…
Michael Pooler
Thai Brides and Teacakes was running at the Dancehouse.
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