Betsy: Wisdom of a Brighton Whore

SoHo Playhouse, New York City

You're big, bigly big, an elevated luminary of the town, but you need your “comforts”. Come down into the deep dark underworld of Victorian Brighton. Betsy awaits, to ease your burdens from your brow, cater to your every need. But Betsy has a story of her own, one of sex, seduction, survival. As your bodies, and tales, intermingle, you come to realise that you may have been… indiscreet. Now, it's time to clean up the mess, to leave no trace.

As echoes of Trump, Andrew, Epstein reverberate back down the centuries, we'll dig up the past, with you in mind.

“Please”, he says, “just half-an-hour of your time.”

I says, “Ain’t you listening? You on The Blob? I ain’t in the business for bloody boiler hands and stokers. I don’t do dingers and I don’t do blobby boys. Look at ya, You look like you’ve got the French Pox on ya. Now get lost. I got nobility waiting on me, with cleans sheets and clean dicks, so I don’t need to go bug hunting. Now sling it!’

Betsy's a sauce box, a church bell and a woman on the edge, with mouths to feed, nobs to fleece, and blobby boys to repel. It’s 1820 (ish) and Betsy is a Brightonian, “at work”. Having parted company from the St Mary’s Home for Penitent Women, she’s been given a “situation” by the knobs of the town, keeping an eye on the house of builder and land developer Thomas Kemp, lest he should return with the money he owes his creditors. Whilst she’s there, she’s required to give comfort to members of the brotherhood, and it isn’t long before she meets Guardian of the Town and Chair of the Committee for the Provision of the poor, George Bintshaft.

Flowers arrive. Then wine, then dresses. A carriage to take Betsy to a private supper. More wine, soft words, and then a hot wine-laden breath, urgent whisperings, fumblings at the same dress…

Run Time in Minutes

80

Age Recommendation for your audience

14+