Long Story Short – The Kings Arms, Salford

Three weeks since my last trip into theatre land. I’ve been gadding in foreign climes, being all la-di-dah and that.

And I’m back. And I’m back at the ultimate cat pub, The Kings Arms.

Coming in a close second is the Blind Beggar in the East End, synonymous not only with me going on two different occasions and each time finding a cat sat at the bar, but with those naughty Kray twins and their ways. And speaking of their ways, crime and punishment was the name of the game, in the latest from the top notch company that is Farewell Theatre.

The last time I enjoyed their work was, again, actually in a pub and it was all a bit gloriously meta, as they took us on a trip into the past as they presented to us The Death of the English Pub, as part of last year’s GM Fringe Festival.

This time round, they were back with something different; a series of shorts.

Long Story Short, is five 20 minute plays, written by Ward J. Harries (director, actor), each, as I say, around the topic of crime and punishment. And ain’t that right up my street…

It took me far longer than it should to notice the bloody man sat gagged, tied and terrified when I walked into the theatre upstairs at The Kings Arms. No it wasn’t my plus 1, but Reece Hallam, actor, producer, one of the founding members of Farewell and one of the actors in the opening three-hander short, The Punishment. Joining him were the aforementioned Harries and actress Laura Yates.

As the slightly disturbed owner of a large Andy Warhol print in her hall entitled, Twelve Electric Chairs (because, me), my heart swelled. This show was starting with a bang. In this universe, punishment was meta. Punishment for one prisoner was to act as executioner for another in ‘the machine’.. .It gave Saw, it gave Inside Number 9 and it gave me a thrill of delight in its darkness and horror show of pitting man (or woman) against man.

I know.

With a brief pause, to take in what we’d seen, we met two more, perhaps what you might call ‘traditionally’ punished criminals, in Trapped. That old criminal version of the ‘meet-cute’ trope, as old hand cellmate (Director, actor and Farewell’s company director. Ross Thompson) meets newbie cellmate (actor, director and writer,Morgan Bailey). Morality challenge number 2 of the evening. When does a crime have extenuating circumstances? Are all crimes equal? What’s the scale? Does gender come into play with an eye for an eye? Some fine acting here which really made the message land and question our own pre-held judgments.

But there was little time for too much soul-searching in the moment as the darkness lifted and we were gifted some light heartedness to proceedings, with Neighbourhood Watch. The crime? Sandwich theft.

The protagonist in the furious proceedings to pinpoint the perpetrator? Jonathan Watson (Pete Gibson). A slight panic descended in me that this had potential to be twee. Like all things, this too passed. And like most good British comedy) it brought with it a good dose of the surreal to the ordinary (if you can call a stakeout of the local butty shop ordinary). The soliloquys of Jonathan/Pete Gibson gave Terry Scott, gave Steve Pemberton, gave even Matt Berry. It gave the man on the street a rant which started about tuna and quickly descended into a rave about his ‘whore’ of an ex-wife. And we’ve not even got into Bailey’s frankly iconic character of ‘Bones’, mother-f*cker.

And as Watson and Bones (ya geddit) continue on their, let’s call it, acid-trip, they’re accompanied by the sweet and unassuming daughter of Jonathan, Rudy (actor Madeline Dearden), professional Manc, Wes (Thompson) and Kayleigh (Yates). It was Camping, it was Carry on Camping, it was good old British bonkers. And as much as my love for all that is dark shines bright, I appreciated the balance.

Now, it’s here that I’m about to let my reader down, the writer down and most of all, myself down.

Post-interval play, Affliction, lost me quite early on and I will wear the badge that labels me a heathen if the shoe fits (and other such proverbs). The imagery was strong, spooky, sinister. The lines were being delivered with passion and conviction… I just got lost in trying to decipher and take apart the layers in this particular narrative.

Don’t get me wrong, one of the genres of theatre I lean into is the surreal, the weird, the ‘extra’. The surreal, the weird and the extra on this occasion beat me, Colour me basic, but what would have eased me straight in would have been a pre show provided one line premise. And whilst I was definitely in the room for individual elements of the tale as affliction and injury became part of the characters’ very own personal game of Top Trumps, too much was I distracted by my own confusion to speak of this short with the required authority.

And then we reached our final tale of crime and punishment in Panic of the Coward. Here we looked at dishonour amongst three thieves (Harries, Thompson, Hallam), as a heist goes badly wrong, and very much not according to plan.

As devastation sets in from the actions of one of our perpetrators, another, the self-appointed leader of the pack revealing a mistake of his own (well kind of an amuse-bouche to a much bigger one), a bigger truth comes out but it’s all too little too late.

With a murdered minor, an empty ruck-sack, and a shock suicide, an evening of shorts ended as it first began – with a bang. A gun-shot ringing out in that wonderful little domed theatre above that wonderful little pub on Bloom Street in Salford.

Long story short? Farewell Theatre Company brought it once again. Keep an eye out for their next endeavour as to miss their work would be criminal (yes, I did that).