Paul Bradshaw’s debut play, ’tell me straight’ is an effervescent exploration of self in London’s jungle of sexual energy. The unnamed protagonist seems to always be on the cusp of something. Whether that be a new job or a new lover, Him is constantly chasing things that are just about unattainable. Him’s navigation of sexual conquests and intimacy asks us the long-standing question of which is better, the chase or the destination? tell me straight’s answer to this is a vulnerable and biting portrayal of internalised homophobia, balancing the confessional and charming levity.
Him recites recollections from his life, detailing an odyssey of sexual encounters. Cheng Keng’s light design contracts the space, assigning each encounter to its own distinctive vignette. Bright spotlights squeeze the stage to shoulder-rubbing cinema seats and army barracks while greenish hues expand the space to murky nightclubs. Clandestine is most definitely the word and watching Him interact in these hushed locations is equally entertaining and touching.
The recollections are spliced into the present day, illuminating how dizzying Him’s rotation of ‘straight’ men are. Each sexually curious prospect is played by Elliot Rodgers who melts into each iteration smoothly, armed with a quick change of outerwear and formidable accent-work. I relished every interaction between Rodgers and Bradshaw who both impressively manage to shape every glance, handhold and kiss with intention.
The fourth wall is broken at exactly the most funny and strategic moments. The incorporation of the audience lends itself to a diary-like tone. Watching Him navigate the network of uncertainty is nerve wracking but I found respite in Him’s best friend, Dani who like an omniscient deity, only appears in flashes of voice notes. Themes of friendship and connection beyond physical emerge throughout.
tell me straight is candid, vivacious and taps into universal wants of affection and love. Bradshaw’s snappy script and even snappier delivery is a pristine vehicle for these messages.
Cosmopolitan and suave, Aggy does not shy away from complicated conversations. In fact, Paul Bradshaw’s daring production wholeheartedly embraces and instigates them. Juggling complicated relationships and even more complicated morals, Aggy delves into how easily identity can be constructed and more so, how swiftly it can disintegrate. The naturally funny and fast-paced play follows a couple, Lawrence and Malik commence the new chapter of their relationship. After moving in together, hostility bleeds throughout their home. Increased proximity forces reckonings with each other, themselves and the reality of race, gender and class in today’s Britain.
Lawrence, an unemployed but by no means struggling artist craves inspiration. In the all-encompassing pursuit of ‘clout’, he attempts to manipulate any tools at his disposal he deems malleable, namely his gender identity. The friction this induces ripples throughout his relationship, creating a fascinating and exciting watch.
Matthew Jordan is simultaneously aloof and provocative as Lawrence, embodying an ignorant disinterest allowing for Lawrence’s later (and frankly ridiculous) decisions to in some way, make sense. Jordan’s scatterbrained portrayal is the perfect foil to Jean-Luke Worrel’s Mahlik whose earnestness and blunt candour is entirely convincing. Mahlik has to perform whiteness at both his workplace and home. The disparity between Mahlik’s collectedness and Lawrence’s erraticism makes their confrontations concerning micro-aggressions and fetishisation, as an interracial couple, incredibly frustrating to watch.
Damien Stanton’s set design of the couple’s living room establishes the theme of curation. The carefully selected furniture blares in primary colours against a fairly expensive view of London. Novel decor pieces- my favourite being the enlarged BIC Pen used as an LED light- infuse an interesting cartoonishness amongst domesticity.
Social media reels are projected onto the screens throughout the play, creating a textured stage, interweaving the digital and physical. I particularly loved the use of the Instagram reels. Far from gauche, they provided context and progressed the narrative organically and hilariously. Aggy continuously does a great job at integrating social media and discussions of cancel culture with sophistication.
Aggy is an astounding feat, exploring what success can look like in the contemporary London art-scene and how identity can be leveraged to achieve it. Politically and sexually charged, Aggy is a delightfully punchy watch.
Reviewer: Naina Sidhu
Reviewed: 20th October 2026
North West End UK Rating:
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