Comedy By Mary Bourke Soba Stadium, The Noodle Palace February 11
There aren’t too many lady comics around. And those that are— according to the boorish sods dogging Mary Bourke’s Twitter account— should really be in the kitchen making sandwiches.
“What is it with men and sandwiches?” the Irish comedian wonders aloud.“Surely a full roast dinner is both more sexist and time consuming”.
Flat-toned, debonair and with an assured and sardonic wit, Bourke proceeds to lampoon and lance the bloated toxic mess that the image of feminism has become in the era of Tindr, Twitter and Kardashian Konfidential (the novel with absolutely, unassailably no right to exist).
The show is far from a man-hating tirade. No harpies are launched in a storm of fury against male testicles, no self-righteous jeers are spat; both genders get the rough, raw and cunningly snide treatment.
It’s a deep chuckle of a ride. Mocking the vacuous stridency of faux-feminism as it’s embodied in Marilyn Monroe quotes, middle-class mumsnetters, and Kim K’s peachiful caboose, Bourke works to purge feminism of its insipid reputation of mindless cheerleading, across all situations, on all terms.
So much so that Bourke looked faintly disdainful at the gratuitous whooping of a woman in the crowd, who seemed rearing to rip off the old bra and swing it around the old head. The ideology of equal rights between genders doesn’t mean— as is made clear—wanton vindication.
What this wry and commanding lady demonstrates is that femininity and power are not mutually exclusive. A woman can be funny—convincingly and barbarously so—and at the same time wear high heels, unbound hair and a floral-print dress.
With an old gramophone recording warbling out prissy rebukes and paternal coos behind her, Bourke scorns the phony trailblazers of gender equality and punctures the swollen entitlements of patriarchy. She shows up the hilariously belittling lyrics of Joe Cocker, derides ‘homeless magician’ hipsters, and ushers the one terrible syllable of ‘moist’ into the air.
We are also introduced to the fearless Granny Bourke; a roadside-spitting Nan who— along with the terrifying billboard image of a giant, flamingo-legged, dead-star-eyed Cameron Diaz— was the inspiring force behind Muffragette.
In the end, Bourke does make us a sandwich. She goes into the kitchen of comedy (with all its gleaming knives) and makes us up a sandwich full of hater’s baloney and personal beef. And then, coolly, she slams it into the oafish face of the 21st century.
It more than hits the spot.
Muffragette will be showing at various locations until Saturday, February 21. Find out more here.
