I hope Nathaniel Hall won’t mind me adding in those brackets. But it’s quite integral to my blog post, because you see I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Toxic before. It premiered at HOME in the October of 2023, and I went, I saw, I felt and I duly did write.

But when I was invited to see Toxic again, this time at the Lowry Theatre (a homecoming, if you will for Dibby Theatre, also based in Salford), there were two reasons I jumped right in.

My first review lays testament to the fact that this is a great piece of theatre, Secondly this is a somewhat updated version of the show. The same arc, characters, themes but with a revisit to some of the scenes and script.

So this blog post really, echoes this concept.

For everything I originally said stands (all positive and heartfelt, you understand) and so it would feel disingenuous to attempt to revisit those reactions and sentiments from scratch.

So for those who are new to the production or Toxic-curious, shall we say, whilst I lift and echo from my original thoughts, feelings and take-aways, I will speak of my additional appreciations from this very bold, entertaining, funny, dark, camp, important piece of work…

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This is the story of how we met, fell in love, and f*cked it up. But it’s not just our story. It’s his, and his and theirs. Maybe it’s yours… Maybe.

Written by Nathaniel and (once again, and even more so) wonderfully co-performed with Josh-Susan Enright, Toxic is produced by Dibby Theatre and showing in The Studio at the Lowry until Saturday 19 April.

I first saw Nathaniel Hall at Waterside Arts in his play First Time – Review: First Time (Refract Festival 2019)

It was raw, moving, funny and real.

But let’s talk about shame. Shame is excruciating. It’s the stuff that wakes you up at 3am and keeps you awake. A replay of the worst moments of your life which can pop up at the least expected moments.

It’s unwanted, unpleasant, but something we can usually bat away until we stumble into the next dramatic scenario, guaranteed to be relived in the early hours of a random Tuesday.

Now imagine living with that shame day in, day out. Or perhaps you don’t have to imagine.

Toxic is semi-autobiographical and a representation of some of the self-destructive cycles of behaviour and sometimes indeed abusive relationships Nathaniel had found himself in. He wanted to know why, that despite the success of First Time and role in It’s a Sin, this was his reality. After much soul-searching, speaking with friends, and interviewing leading LGBTQ+ researchers, experts and writers, he realised that whilst pride is a public celebration, for many of those LGBTQ+, privately there is still ‘societal prejudice and shame’.

And so onto the show itself.

Manchester 2017. A chance meeting on a hook-up app sets two damaged thirty-something hearts on a spectacular collision course.

He is HIV+ and drowning in shame. They are queer and one microaggression away from a full-on meltdown. Born into Thatcher’s Britain of race riots and rampant homophobia and growing up in the shadow of Aids and Section 28, the pair form a trauma bond so tight, they might just survive it all.

But sometimes survival means knowing when to leave.

It is the story of a relationship, HIV, of love, of anger, of jealousy, of sex, drugs and the Macarena, of telephone calls, of threesomes, of U=U, of PrEP/PEP, of writing not paying the bills (ahem), of attractive strangers named Nick 9 inch, of sofas on credit at DFS, of loading up on drinks at a Britney concert and getting into a fight with the girl in front, of homophobia, of racism, of passion, of anger.

Of falling off a drainpipe and broken windows.

Toxic is a tale, bravely and generously shared of a life lived and laid bare and a lesson in realising when you need to walk away before it’s too late.

And in my second outing to the production, I appreciated being taken even more into the relationship between ‘the playwright’ and the ‘performer’.

We see the ‘meet-cute’, the ferocity and passion as they crash head-on into a relationship that quickly moves to co-habitation and the domestic bliss, complete with couple walks in the Peak District calls to their dealer (the couple that scores together (in more ways than one), stays together? (smiley emoji, winking emoji).

But we see and understand more.

We see date night, where we learn more about ‘the performer’ and their experiences and past – of racism, discrimination – two people coming together with individual struggles that soon start to be pitted and weighed up against the other, in a toxic (ah there we go) game of life experience Top Trumps.

Here on this date night, we see an impromptu proposal, a less than convincing acceptance, and learn of the public follow-up at Pride (and again of the less than convinced acceptance).

The inevitable car crash ending of Toxic (clue’s in the name and, well, as you know…

This is the story of how we met, fell in love, and f*cked it up.

Sex, drugs and, well, Britney Spears, will always play their special part in the carnage that can be love, life and relationships, but Toxic makes sure to delve deeper into not only the behaviours behind the ‘f*cking it up’ of it all, but in the whys and the what fors.

Toxic 2023, Toxic 2025 – it doesn’t matter. Nathaniel Hall doesn’t shy away from the big-ticket topics. If you’ve seen it before, see it again. If you didn’t, have a word with yourself and grab your chance.

Toxic at the Lowry Theatre, Salford until Saturday 19 April. Head to https://thelowry.com/whats-on/256//toxic for more details and tickets.

Credits: Performed by Nathaniel with Josh-Susan Enright blends storytelling (dir. by Scott Le Crass), movement (Plaster Cast), design (Lu Herbert), visual projections (those aubergines) and lighting (dede ././ and Tracey Gibbs), with an original indeed pumping soundtrack by SHAR.