Picture it, a sultry night in sinful Soho and a pink twist on an old family favourite. Our penthouse pals treated us to a night at the theatre – a much appreciated welcome home gift. We took our seats at the Soho Theatre, artistic home to the innovative, the avant garde, the experimental and, sometimes, the plain bonkers. The intimate auditorium has a steep incline providing an unobstructed view of the snug stage and the bald spots in the rows below. The entertainment was Soho Cinders, a modern fable fit for the Grindr age. Think grubby spin doctor oiling the wheels, angelic rent boy trying to make an honest crust, clip joint sisters in pussy pelmets and ‘straight’ Tory politician knocking off the pretty boy on the side. The only Buttons on show were the ones on the punters who couldn’t keep their flies shut. It was fabulous. The score was full of fun and pathos, the lyrics were comically topical and the performances were bouncy and vital. The salacious sisters got my vote for the best lines. From one ugly trollop to the other:
You’re like a ten pin bowling ball – picked up, fingered and thrown back down the alley.
Cinders went to the glittery Ball and the rubber johnny fitted, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘He’s behind you.’
I give you They Don’t Make Glass Slippers, one of the many splendid songs from the show.
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