★★★★ | The Chemsex Monologues

Introducing a hexagon of narratives that will surge a memory, ignite a demon or pep your G spot.

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If you’ve never darkened the dimly lit doorway of a chill-out, you’ll grasp that the etiquette for accepting others’ pharmaceuticals is to putout; sexual health workers hand out condoms in saunas to the beats of Kylie; Bermondsey is a hotspot for Roman style orgies; gays high on meth get lost buying cigarettes; G-o’clock equals a contorting face; overdoing the liquid-high could leave you with an unexplained bleeding rectum.

Writer Patrick Cash leans on the darker side of the drug-fueled free-for-all, with more authenticity than an Eastenders’ Christmas double bill – graphically touching on a mosaic of very real circumstances.

Sex, high on narcotics, can rocket your orgasm to another sphere, but, for some, what happens when the euphoria fades?

Denholm Spurr (Nameless), snorts Andrex-Puppy-ness into a character you’ll know, have seen or can relate to. Charly Flyte (Fag Hag Cath) is credible and injects a decent size syringe full of humour.

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Leave ya poppers at home and there’s no need for laughing gas. You’ll rush, and sink to the bottom, in this well-quilled chem-hole.

The Chemsex Monologues plays at The Kings Head Theatre until 20th August 2016, 0207 226 8561