Desperate Scousewives: Nessa’s Story – Epstein Theatre
Oh, the irony: they seated us in Row F while the stage was full to bursting with the F word – and yes, bloody hell, I’m known to swear myself occasionally, but I did mind the language. Never mind close to the bone, it was inside the very marrow. However, you are warned it’s not for the faint-hearted, and the audience, predominantly women, absolutely lapped it up. It is a clever premise, part of a set of plays; so are many of the astringent one-liners.
Take four women, friends and neighbours (hah…), shut out of their homes on a freezing cold evening in a row of terraced houses in a Liverpool back street, which also harbours a Women’s Refuge. Lily and Trisha are winsomely clad in pyjamas with Susan sporting a onesie big enough for two or threesies, and Lily a cross between an angel and a ...
