Single Spies, by Alan Bennett

Oxford Playhouse 05-02-02

Whilst in our seats, watching the rest of the audience arrive, my companion, being wonderfully un-pc (or perhaps just more honest than me) commented on the 'smell of oldness' that surrounded us, not that it's a bad smell, just a distinctive one. One quick glance around and I was reminded of the audience that anything written by Mr Bennett seems to attract: predominantly over 40s. I've been trying to work out why exactly this is, as his writing is always extremely witty, thought-provoking and above all, funny. There is a place for what I term 'brainless humour' i.e. humour that creates a quick laugh but with no substance, but to my mind, there is also plenty of room for writing that points to a truth behind the giggles.

Maybe Bennett's primary subject matter, of Britain's class-ful, not less, society (I have yet to be convinced otherwise by the media or politicians and they will have to try a lot harder to succeed) with all its idiosyncrasies, is thought of as dated, or not even that, but not modern enough. Maybe it's due to a lack of exposure to his writing amongst a younger audience. Whatever the reason I find this a shame as Bennett really is, let me say it again, a very funny man, and one for whom I have a lot of time because of the respect with which he treats his characters. Even when one of them is an alcoholic ex-spy, now living in exile in Moscow, who can only muster up one tomato for lunch and proceeds to steal his guest's one tomato there is never the sense that this character is being judged. It is incredibly humorous and also lingeringly sad, but there is no scale of the rightness of actions or the betterness of certain people over others portrayed.

So for those of you yet to be convinced by Mr Bennett, this double bill contains, amongst other great performances, one of the best impersonations of the Queen I have seen, with Liza Goddard's rolling r's, clipped tones, curt manner, and maybe most importantly, slightly clumpy and maybe too large shoes, that HRH never seems to forgo. Or, you may have a certain partiality to the ex-spy, Burgess, who will make even the most ill-mannered people feel positively luxurious in their sense (or lack) of etiquette. And if that isn't enough (my, you are hard to please) the first play touches on the three essential elements of civilised living: gossip, false teeth and clothes. What else is there?

Liz Buckle.