Details
In the dark, dank cavern of an East London flat, the light spills ever so softly through the boarded up windows. The smell of chicken blood is sharp in the air. The Sawnders family's been this way for years. Under the iron fist of Randolphus, the eldest sibling and patriarchal rod of steel, the business is under threat. Despite rebranding the shop that was once known as "Simply Offal", the council want them out. The last embers of their shop, "Chicken Bin" (named as such by Randolphus thinking that bin was classy... like Hardy's Bin wine) are dying. The health inspector is on the way, and will do anything he can to stick a throbbing government stamp all over their rotting carcasses. However, fear not, they have a few tricks up their filthy sleeves, passed down by mother, and mother always knows best. Could this possibly be the end of the Sawnders family? Will "Chicken Bin" finally shut its doors after time immemorial? Will we ever be able to scrub the stains off our blood soaked skin?
Creatives/Company
Company:
Splutter Theatre