The naïve intern Sam, whose blunder sets the play in motionMaia Ben-Yami

It takes a show that grabs you by the throat to make its mark in Week 0, but NSFW, directed by Kim Alexander, has enough punch and dark glamour to do just that.

Set first in the office of men’s magazine, Doghouse, filled with topless photographs, before shifting to the office of women’s magazine, Electra, filled with Photoshopped celebrities, Lucy Kirkwood’s script is funny, chilling and unflinchingly explorative in themes of sexual exploitation for public titillation, and the futility of moral fibre in a consumerist world.

When intern Sam accidentally chooses a photograph of an underage girl as Doghouse’s Miss Local Lovely 2018, chief editor Aidan must deal with the girl’s vengeful father and Sam must try to find work elsewhere.

An engaging pre-set features Louis Elton (Rupert) playing darts and proposing to Jasmin Rees (Charlotte) with a Haribo ring. Alexander makes full use of the desk versus the sofa as representative of the powerful versus their underlings, the employer versus those desperate for employment. The set change between the two offices is simple – a football flag replaced with jackets and scarves on the same hooks, and the blown-up Doghouse cover design replaced with one for Electra, though I wasn’t sure whether Aidan’s drawing of breasts on the whiteboard was left in the Electra office intentionally. There were also several empty cups of coffee that could have been more convincingly treated as full.

"It’s political but does not preach" Maia Ben-Yami

Elton as Rupert is bursting with rowdy energy, though his shrillness can verge on pantomimic and so lose any real anger or exasperation. His boss, Aidan (Thomas Warwick), is a beautiful balance of charm and slime. Warwick showed some nerves early on, causing some issues with projection and tripping over lines, but his timing is masterful in creating both comedy and shock, and he keeps a smooth-talking likeability about Aidan through both of his scenes.

The confrontation between Aidan and Mr Bradshaw (Ben Martineau), the father of the fourteen-year-old Miss Local Lovely, gives both actors a chance to shine. The tension of the scene, threatening aggression at any moment, is electric, the actors excelling in their stillness, their overlapped arguing and their long, unflinching stares. The contrast between them is also made clear, aided by Rosie Chalmer’s costumes: Martineau’s straightforward, down-to-earth Northerner in a mismatched grey jacket, black trousers and shiny red tie, opposite Warwick’s plastered hair, slick grey suit, polished shoes and caramel voice.

Jamie Bisping plays naïve intern Sam, endearing in his love-struck monologue about his girlfriend, hilarious in his red-faced panic upon discovering his mistake regarding Miss Local Lovely 2018, and nervously giggling with neurotic energy around both of his bosses.

Becky Shepherdson as Miranda, Bisping’s second boss and chief editor of Electra women’s magazine, is utterly terrifying. She works cleverly as a counterpart to Aidan: where Warwick is low-voiced and soft-speaking, Shepherdson is shrill and loud, two different breeds of predators. A flamboyant, strutting, unpredictable ‘feminist’ of dubious habits, Shepherdson’s vocal work is operatic in range and she carries herself with patronising, unsettling power – think Olivia Colman in Fleabag. Bisping, sitting on her sofa while she circles him, looks like a seal pup in a shark tank, their exchanges walking a fine line between workplace banter and harassment. Shepherdson’s hands on Bisping’s shoulders, without becoming too frequent to be believable, are gentle visual reminders of this.


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The role of Charlotte in the Doghouse scenes, against such colourful characters, is unrewarding; the obligatory girl in a boys’ office whose main monologue explains why she’s willing to work there. Nonetheless, Rees gives Charlotte a sense of hardened, long-suffering awareness as the distasteful events play out in front of her. Though silent through the majority of the scene between Warwick and Martineau, standing upright, chin raised like a guard at an interrogation, she shows an escalating degree of distress which she releases in her final line. If you didn’t think the words, “I say I’m an estate agent” could be made heart-wrenching, prepare to be proven wrong.

Following this ending to Scene Two, the final moment of the play could be given more impact – some final physical contact between Shepherdson and Bisping, perhaps, or more indulgence in the power-play of Miranda’s last words. However, Kirkwood’s demand that Miranda eat a cotton wool ball is carried off convincingly enough to make you concerned for Shepherdson.

NSFW is bang in the current moment: it’s political but does not preach, asking questions that we may not consider. Alexander has presented it with gusto and a vibrant cast which, corners ironed out, brings Lent Term in with thought-provoking style.

NSFW is on at the Corpus Playroom at 7.00pm, 16-20th January