Finally an entertaining play at the Royal Court: Cuckoo reviewed

The boss of the Royal Court, Vicky Featherstone, will soon step down and she’s using her final spell in charge to try an unusual experiment. Can she entertain the punters and make them feel happy rather than forcing them to confront various forms of gloom, misery and despair? The answer is yes. Featherstone can tickle our funny bone if she wishes.

Cuckoo, by Michael Wynne, is a hilarious kitchen-sink comedy set in Merseyside with an all-female cast. Some critics have likened it to a Carla Lane sitcom and the domestic set-up owes an obvious debt to the Royle Family by Caroline Aherne. Instead of watching TV, the characters are obsessed with their mobile phones and they struggle to converse in real life rather than online. All are likeable, recognisable types. Doreen, a widow in her sixties, has rediscovered her sexuality and found a lover but she’s too bashful to share this secret with her two daughters. Carmel, the mother of teenage Megyn, has a zero-hours contract at Boots and she angrily berates any relative who patronises her rivals, Superdrug. Dreamy Sarah has fallen for a rich, handsome dentist but their affair doesn’t seem quite right. She owns no photographs of her boyfriend and although she plans to settle down with him she has yet to visit his brand-new practice in Liverpool. Does it even exist?

The only character without a fully realised personality is Megyn, the shy teenager, who lives permanently in Doreen’s bedroom and sends down for orders of toast, tea and snacks. Megyn is a symbol obviously. Perhaps she represents the newfangled mental disorders, which force families to adopt comforting and easy power structures. Megyn becomes an eternal baby whom Doreen gladly coddles because it makes her important and gives her a purpose in life.