‘I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you some time before you need to come out, because I like you.’
Tones shift and lurch as two characters, who might be nowhere near as uncertain as they like to make out, engage in verbal fencing, through a door. A disquisition upon holidays, stars, swings, storytelling and porridge ensues, with an ever present undercurrent of something much more menacing just beyond - and who’s that third guy?
Out Through The In Door is a bitter, twisted black comedy (or something like that) and, since it is the bastard of Beckett, Pinter and McDonagh, expect a lot of pauses punctuated by filth purporting to be poetry.
Admission: £6(£5)
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