When Women Wee

The set design is kept basic, being just two cubicles on one end and a large
table that serves as two sinks on the other (in which much of the dialogue is
carried out as the girls look into an imaginary mirror). In one scene a shy
frumpy girl enters one of two cubicles and begins meticulously laying loo
paper all around the rim of the toilet in order to sit down in comfort, but
not before bunging a load in to prevent any splash…

In another two blonde bimbos talk about setting up a hair salon in Italy
called “afro ditty” where “I can turn up to work as a different Greek
goddess each day, right”. Another sees a party animal encourage her more
straight-laced friend to try some MDMA for the first time; the consequences
are more hilarious than you could possibly imagine.

Aside from the re-emergence of several characters through the course of the
night there is no central plot or narrative that drives the play, which rather
serves as a window into brief sequences of oestrogen-only privacy during an
otherwise very, very wasted night. It’s like being the fly on the ladies’
toilet wall, an insight that male curiosity has sought to satiate since time immemorial.

There’s a slight fear after the first couple of scenes that it will go down a
garish, stereotyped path but as the play runs its course the charm is
undeniable, spurned on by some phenomenal character acting. As some
characters reappear you develop a fondness for them as their stories unfold. This ultimately boils down to the fact that there’s not
an unsympathetic character among them – there’s an innocence there,
somewhere, that forces you to like them.

Perhaps the possibility of a sequel – When Men Wee – could, if written as well
as this, offer up as many laughs?

– Will Stone