Tinderella – Two Balls One Happy Ending. Union Theatre.

For some the thought of pantomime with no children in the audience has manifest attractions. It is certainly an idea that has caught on in recent years. This winter productions of lewd, crude, and rude adult pantomimes in London are almost as ubiquitous as those of A Christmas Carol. If the idea appeals, director Robert McWhir‘s Tinderella: Two Balls One Happy Ending, currently in a sold-out run at Bankside’s Union Theatre, is most definitely worth a look. Theatre evenings spent yelling “Roger that Buttons” and “Hands off my package” at a clutch of very hard-working performers do not come around often enough.

Ella (Laura Mead) lives at “hard-on hall” with evil stepsisters Clitoria (Alan Kelly) and Chlamydia (Edward Denby). She spends her afternoons “in search of wood” at the “dogging area” on Clapham Common, and her evenings swiping on Tinder in search of hook-ups and the perfect man. Best friend Buttons (Joshua David) has a thing for Ella. But this being an inclusive show in which pansexuality is universal he also spends an inordinate amount of time looking for trysts on Grindr. Buttons’ desire for inclusivity extends to the audience. Eschewing “hello boys and girls” he enquires of us which noun he should use to address us. The press night audience prefers “slags” over the c-word or “butterflies”, but it is a close call.

Prince Charming (Lauren Bimson) boasts “the biggest balls in the land” and is bestowed with “a dong as big as an elephant’s nose”. Being desirous of using said appendage he needs to find a princess, so sets up a very big ball indeed. With the aid of fairy godmother (Gabriel Mokake) Ella wangles an invitation and dances the night away with the prince. But when the clock chimes midnight Cinderella must flee, leaving only her contraceptive diaphragm behind her. The prince launches a quest “to find a vag that matches” the cap. Whomsoever the cap fits will wear the crown. Can Ella overcome her scheming stepsisters and the demonic presence of Maleficent (Monty Camisa-Bundy who is the spitting image of Angelina Jolie) to land her royal prince?

Writers Leonard Hatter and Pedro El Toro sensibly adopt an if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it approach to the pantomime format. Anticipate slapstick, music, transformations, plenty of audience interaction, a surfeit of “it’s behind you” (surely dogging on Clapham Common is not quite like this) and booing and hissing a plenty. Those of a nervous disposition may wish to avoid the front row as you may end up a little too intimate with Buttons.

The comedy is briskly direct: the writers have seemingly engaged with all four quarters of the thesaurus to find words that rhyme with dick and cock. “Did you come on the bus? Yes, but I pretended it was an asthma attack” is a typical example of the general tone. Subtle it ain’t, but the producers might want to rethink the Jimmy Saville joke.

Musical director Alex Kirk delivers up an engaging mishmash of bawdily re-written lyrics, with songs drawn from, amongst others Hairspray, Les Miserables, Matt Munro and Nina Simone. The highlight is a hymn to the delights of oral sex set to a version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah: “How I blew you, how I blew you” goes the refrain and very catchy it is too.

Camisa-Bundy is divine as Maleficent as is a stunningly costumed Mokake.  Joshua David has tremendous comic presence as the polyamorous Buttons (and carries off fetish gear with flair). Bimson’s oafish and licentious gender-bending Prince is a highlight too. The pre-finale song-sheet involves a raucous competition between the two halves of the audience to see who can sing “penis” (actually happiness but half the song-sheet is missing) the loudest. It is that kind of show. If this does not get you in the Christmas spirit, nothing will.

Writer: Leonard Hatter & Pedro El Toro

Director: Robert McWhir