A school-age would-be Labourite gives a speech at the model EU parliament which should have sealed her rise within the party. Instead, victory turns to failure as her arch rival turns the room against her. Back at the hotel she takes solace in drink and, bizarrely, a rent boy. What follows is a strange little piece which finds itself trapped between confused intentions: it’s not nearly believable enough to be dramatic, not nearly funny enough to be farce.
The central relationship between head girl Connie and escort Vince is particularly troublesome. Writer Tobias Wright sets up a series of oppositions (rich vs poor; academic vs earthy; Shakespeare vs Star Wars) and sets about translating these into witty repartee. Two problems: first, Wright is clearly more comfortable writing prosy monologues than dramatic dialogue. Second, the scene seriously lacks credibility: within minutes, the client and escort bear their souls in sassy back and forths, Connie waxing lyrical on her strategy for success while Vince responds in the wise, folksy narratives of the working-class savant. Connie’s rival, when she enters, fulfils her role as the ambitious other, but lacks the charisma to be believable as the next big thing in politics.
Perhaps the least appealing aspect of this self-styled study of success, education and reputation is its implicit investiture of some degree of significance in the rise and rise of its two political protagonists – both upper middle class, privately educated high flyers. One can’t shake the feeling that the role of artists is to challenge the world as they find it, not simply mirror it.