Unequivocally candid and witty. A real story of the real issues in HM Prisons.
Entering the auditorium, I notice both Church and Troup, the writers and the stars of the Glasshouse Theatre production, in front of a simple but effective set, watching us shuffle to our seats. They are wearing black boots, white prison officers (POs) shirts, and black cargo trousers equipped with a holstered walkie-talkie and sparkling key chain. Prison chatter, the sound of officers communicating via their radios and cell doors closing rings through the speakers. Troup and Church seem bored or fed-up, but begrudgingly scan the audience as if we are the prisoners that they just need to watch over for a few more minutes before finally getting to clock-out after a long shift.
The set is almost symmetrical. Church stood in front of a prison wall. Above the wall there is a mesh-like fencing with a clipboard, landline phone, and whiteboard which acts as the Roll Board for ‘HM Pussy’. Troup sat beside a mirrored set-up, this time the Roll Board is for ‘HM Prick’. Behind is a mesh-like prison gate with lockers either side. The gate has some hanging plants and a paper flip chart (reading: ‘written by Ella Church and Harriet Troup’) attached and the lockers filled with shoes, POs’ hats, clothes, and a lone ukelele. There are two microphones either end of the front of the stage and a live caption device hanging above the set for those hard of hearing, a nice touch from Theatre Peckham.
After admiring the set, I read through the program which has a rather useful glossary of slang and other terms used within UK prisons. Terms I hope not to become too familiar with but are key to understanding the state of our prison system throughout this production. For those who didn’t have the time to read the glossary before the show, these terms and definitions are comically and usefully explained through the medium of song early in the show. The song was brilliantly sung and expertly parodied to the tune of Do-Re-Mi from the Sound of Music.
When the theatre doors shut and the officers bellowed for our attention and to turn off our contraband phones, we saw an instant aside. Both Troup and Church offered us a final, friendly trigger warning and reassured us that we could leave at any moment if it became too much. They explained that the stories are all real, with names changed for anonymity and songs added to, well, lighten the load. The multiple trigger warnings leading up to the show were incredibly necessary as this is a very raw and honest performance of their experiences. Although some are slightly caricatured, exaggerations of characters to add humour and allow the play to be as watchable as it is.
The story follows the lives of two university graduates who, through the silver tongues of a recruitment agency, are somewhat mislead into a prison officer graduate scheme. Under the false hope of actual rehabilitation and the chance to make a real difference in peoples’ lives, they experience the shear state of the underfunded UK prison system and witness traumatic events every day. Through direct address; some multi-rolling and re-enactment; the voices of some of their fellow grad scheme cohort; Ella Church and Harriet Troup tell their story of life as POs in female and male UK prisons. This story is brazen and at times clunky but this feels true to the environment, an authentic production. The writing is witty and Church and Troup excel in shifting between themselves and the multiple other characters throughout. Two stand-out characters being Troup’s smarmy and obnoxious recruitment agent and Church’s patronising, omnipotent director of the graduate scheme program.
Church and Troup brilliantly show their progression from wide-eyed grads, with hopes and ideas for change, to almost emotionally numbed parental figures in a peculiar prison family. [Trigger Warning] We see how they have to endure sexual harassment and inappropriate comments, most of which from other POs and governors, not excluding that from the inmates. They both witness self-harm, suicide attempts, assault, drug abuse, death, and an endless list of traumatic instances far too regularly. Everything was experienced after minimal training, little emotional preparation and support, and all this following a misrepresentation of the job they were applying for. So, it is no wonder their characters become somewhat numb to these traumas and learn to bite their tongues and internalise lots of things happening too and around them.
The sound bites of their peers discussing life as POs throughout the production is an excellent choice. I am unsure if this was a decision made by director Amy Church or writers and stars Ella Church and Harriet Troup. Either way, their insight throughout just further highlights the seemingly dystopian prison world. However mad and intense it was, it became slightly normal with lots of them staying almost through a duty of care and bonding with prisoners and colleagues. On top of reaffirming Troup and Church’s recollection of life as a PO, the voice overs drive home the hysterically terrifying reality of the prison system and farcical nature of their grad scheme. Not to mention that they were criminally underpaid!
Where this was witty, truthful and an eye-opening insight to HM prisons, it was also in parts a bit unpolished. This was their lives and experiences. Sometimes jumping from one instance directly to another. However, sometimes I felt these instances served no more purpose to the storyline, and it would have been more interesting to better understand how it impacted them and their relationships. Additionally, where some of the musical numbers were brilliant additions both comically and for the story (such as Church’s run through of the prison lingo), a few fell short and, in my opinion, did not add to the story. However, it may have not helped that the microphones were set-up for their speaking voices so singing directly into them was far too loud.
This show is an incredibly important bit of theatre and serves to reform where they had no opportunity to while actually working in the prison system. Funny, devastatingly enlightening and unsparingly frank. Cell Outs is a must see, although I must warn that you take their trigger warnings seriously, as the brutally sincere style could impact people affected by similar traumas. I am going to observe the show’s and Glasshouse Theatre’s progress avidly (as there are on ACCT) whilst also hounding my local MP to rally for radical change in the prison system.