The P Word. Bush Theatre.

The Bush Theatre has had a terrific year so far with new plays that explore the experiences and expectations of Black and Asian British people. Ambreen Razia’s solid family drama Favour, Nikhil Parmar’s excellent monologue Invisible, and the tremendous Red Pitch from Tyrell Williams being cases in point. The P Word, the second play from actor and writer Waleed Akhtar, is probably the best yet.

Bilal (played by the writer) is a none-too-likeable early 30s, second generation, British Pakistani who prefers to go by the whiter-sounding name of Billy. He works in fast fashion, avoids his conservative Muslim family whenever he can, and spends his evenings scheming against an overweight work colleague while pursuing as many random Grindr hook-ups as he can fit in. Submissive white guys who fetishize Asian lads are his particular target market. As the man himself says, he doesn’t “fuck Pakis,” or indeed anyone he perceives to be less physically attractive than he deserves. If only Billy would realise, as the audience soon does, that being a narcissistic, racist, self-loathing twat is not a sure-fire way of getting that elusive boyfriend he really, really wants.

At drunken Pride celebrations in Soho, Bilal has a chance encounter with the struggling Pakistani asylum-seeker Zafar (a believably downtrodden Esh Alladi). The latter’s life is in limbo as he awaits a long-delayed decision on refugee status from the Home Office. Zafar grieves the brutal homophobic honour killing of his lover back in Pakistan, an act of near-inconceivable evil arranged by his own father. But in a twist of bitter irony, the UK border officials responsible for deciding on the man’s application are having trouble accepting that the asylum-seeker is actually gay. “Are you top or bottom?” is the all-too-credible question the officials conclude will help resolve the conundrum.

After Zafar saves Bilal from the unwanted attention of a pair of club bouncers, the miss-matched duo soon spark up an unexpected friendship. But can British born and bred Billy look beyond outward appearances, and his own inflated sense of self-worth, to recognise that the love he has looked for all his life might well be hidden in plain sight? And what will happen to the two men when the Home Office finally decides on beleaguered Zafar’s fate?

Akhtar’s fresh and witty script, part dialogue and part narration, conveys the collision of two distinct worlds to tremendous effect (supported by great set design – two uneven semicircles set at counterpoint to each other). Both men have a journey to take, ones which the Bush audience comfortably buys into. Bilal needs to rediscover his cultural heritage, move beyond internalised homophobia and racism, and recognise that effecting political change to government immigration policy demands personal sacrifice. Bilal’s transformation from body-obsessed boy bimbo to all-round PC nice guy feels a little too easy at times, but the character’s political and cultural awakening is well communicated. For his part, Zafar must overcome his anguish and the barriers put in place by cruel and unfeeling bureaucracy, to make a new life in a foreign and sometimes hostile environment. The asylum-seeker’s tale is the tougher of the two, and by far the most convincing.

It is, on occasion, a little hard to believe that the growing connection between Bilal and Zafar would emerge so quickly, fostered by little more than a shared affinity for Bollywood and fashion. But unlikelier friendships than this have thrived in drama for centuries, so swallow our doubts we must. What stretches credibility more is the suggestion that the duo’s friendship would evolve into something more romantic. Men, whether straight or gay, rarely fall passionately in love with people they do not find physically attractive; deep and abiding friendship yes, romantic rumpy pumpy no. It requires significant suspension of disbelief to accept that these two would hook up, a reality recognised by the writer in an unexpected and well-conceived twist-in-the-tail.

Director: Anthony Simpson-Pike

Writer: Waleed Akhtar

5 October 2022

Duration: 90 minutes. No interval.