Door Bitch

If you've ever stepped foot in Clapham after 11 p.m., you'll be familiar with the setting of Poppy Almond's new one-woman play, Door Bitch. In a sticky, nepotism-riddled nightclub, we meet Daisy Cashew - an overworked host struggling to balance the hedonism of London nightlife with the pursuit of her deepest dreams.

The “bitch” in question, Daisy, is actually extremely likeable. We meet her mid-shambles, as the band scheduled to perform in just over three hours pulls out, leaving her to pick up the pieces with her less-than-accommodating boss. Oh, and he’s not just an arsehole- he’s the dad of the guy she’s shagging.

Despite these ordeals, she manages to see the funny side, bouncing across the stage with the kind of energy anyone over the age of 21 can only dream of- a pace that Poppy impressively maintains for the entire 45-minute runtime. After all, this job is merely a side quest before she pursues her true calling: becoming a singer.

In the meantime, it’s up to Daisy and her accomplice Peach to get more people onto the dance floor at “the club”- a challenge they take on with a little help from some illegal party favours. But soon, the darker side of clubland begins to catch up with them, and Daisy spirals into a cycle of self-sabotage, pulling her further away from her ambitions. One night, amidst a blur of drugs and music, a catastrophic turn of events forces her back into reality.

This dark twist takes Door Bitch from a classic coming-of-age tale to a far more confronting commentary on the perils of early adulthood and the self-medication many rely on to get through it. The shift in tone is executed flawlessly, and the audience- who had been almost constantly giggling from the start- was stunned into silence. Poppy’s ability to hold a crowd proves just as powerful in moments of sadness as it is in joy.

This ability to be all encompassing at every moment- whether it's engulfing the audience in what genuinely felt like a dance floor, complete with strobes and rizzle kicks, or evoking hilarity through astute observations of made in Chelsea types south of the river and finally leading us to moments of quiet despair- is what makes this show so special. I won’t spoil it by revealing whether Daisy manages to become a star, but I’d bet on Poppy for sure.