The Pitiless Storm

When it arrives, the speech is electrifying.

David Hayman, playing dyed-in-the-wool Labour supporter and trade unionist Bob Cunningham, delivers a plea for an independent Scotland with such relish and poetic turn of phrase that, should Scotland vote Yes, it deserves to be etched onto Holyrood’s walls and stitched into commemorative tea towels.  

The road that leads to this grandstand finish is slightly less sure of foot, deliberately but sometimes unintentionally so.

Hayman’s Cunningham is about to accept an OBE for services to the United Kingdom. He is alone on stage, rehearsing the speech that he will deliver to his comrades. It begins with reminiscing about the days of old Labour, of marches and miners' strikes, of being better together. And then the voices start.

Three key figures from his past needle his conscience: his independence-sympathising ex-wife, his unswervingly socialist late father, and, most importantly, his idealistic 17 year-old self. Decades-old certainties start to fall away like dead foliage.

Doubt is the eye at the centre of The Pitiless Storm. It cripples but ultimately transforms Cunningham. With doubt, the ever-excellent Hayman and writer Chris Dolan are saying, no can become yes.

To be honest, this happens a little too neatly. Cunningham goes from the verge of a nervous breakdown to an angelic-tongued oration worthy of Jimmy Reid in mere moments. The drama’s stitches are all too visible in this transition. The interaction with the voices in Cunningham’s head clunks on occasion too.

But if you are looking for a dramatic articulation of why hundreds of thousands of people in Scotland are considering voting for independence, this is stirring, almost-convincing stuff.