RAWD began over a decade ago as a disability drama group, meeting weekly in a church hall. Since then, it has grown into an arts organisation with a mission to tackle inequality and celebrate disabled creativity. Previous projects include Boards Are Boring, which challenged governance structures; Creative Wellness, exploring inclusive wellbeing; and their ongoing Facilitator Training Programme, which empowers the next generation of practitioners.
Don’t Call Us, We’ll Call You is part of a broad programme of creative offerings for Disability Pride Month, as RAWD celebrates the next step in their journey – their official launch as a charity. It’s a timely reminder of the company’s commitment to making space for disabled voices: on stage, in leadership, and beyond.
RAWD have partnered with Liverpool’s award-winning clown company Ugly Bucket on this production, and the show fits perfectly with Ugly Bucket’s mission to take silliness seriously. At a time when disabled people’s livelihoods are under threat – from proposed cuts to Personal Independence Payments (PIP), to changes in the Access to Work scheme that risk excluding disabled people from the workforce entirely, and even growing restrictions on the right to protest – this show feels incredibly prescient. As RAWD member Tom Daly puts it, “The show is blunt, important and completely stupid”.
Using the block Telethon protests of 1992 – when disabled activists gathered outside the LWT Studios on the South Bank to challenge negative stereotypes and the telethon’s patronising tone – as a starting point, the cast of 33 deliver a powerful, pithy, and very funny show, ensuring they are “heard rather than just listened to.”
Nothing is beyond ridicule, and the jokes fall thick and fast – from a telethon operator snapping “Do you mind? I’m trying to do a show here!” to the irresistibly catchy charity single ‘A Little Bit More’, complete with requisite schmaltz and perfectly timed air grabs.
There’s an overarching narrative arc, as Dan transitions from pleading telethon operator to active agitator, but the show’s real strength lies in its episodic structure and sharp comedic vignettes. A roving reporter pops up on the AV, skewering the non-disabled saviour complex as she ‘rescues’ disabled people who are enjoying a drink in a sunny beer garden. A spirit guide dog leads the audience through a hilariously offbeat guided meditation. The Wizard of Accessibility – flanked by two glamorous assistants whose headpieces misbehave with impeccable comic timing – turns donations into access provisions. But, as is often the case in the real world, these ‘fixes’ are short-lived, a flimsy plaster over much deeper structural barriers.
The deft comic touches allow the show’s key messages to resonate, repeatedly highlighting the limitations of a system that underestimates the views and experiences of disabled people. The ensemble is so cohesive that it feels almost wrong to single out individuals; however, Keziah Vaughan’s powerful monologue cuts through the laughter with striking clarity, leading the company towards their final challenge: an invitation to the audience to stand beside them and join the call to action.
Reviewer: Clare Chandler
Reviewed: 7th July 2025
North West End UK Rating: