WHEN this play opened in London a few years ago it became something of a cause celebre. A single act of violence - committed on a middle aged man by three young girls - led to an incredible backlash. People walked out of the theatre, the play was branded 'pornographic' and 'degrading' and debate raged in the press.

But I agree with the writer, Philip Ridley, in that if you concentrate on the violence, you miss the main point of the play, which is about memory, and how you never know the real you, until you come to terms with the truth.

The story revolves around Travis Flood (another wonderfully understated performance from Octagon stalwart Christopher Wilkinson), an East End gangster from the 60s who returns to his old haunts. He is almost dewy eyed with nostalgia for those heydays, and his fondness for the past is matched by Torchie Sparks (the magnificent Ann Rye).

These two accomplished actors dominate the first act, which while harsh and brutal at times, is lifted by an undercurrent of black humour. And there's some brilliant comic exchanges between the two.

A harder edge appears towards the end of the first half with the arrival of Rio Sparks (Stephanie Buttle), the prostitute grand-daughter of Torchie.

When Torchie leaves the soot-covered, kitchen, where the action is set, violence erupts.

By the opening of the second act, Travis is trussed up like a turkey on a chair, and Rio has been joined by her female accomplices, Miss Sulphur and Miss Kerosene.

The three young actresses, Stephanie Butler, Nicola Wheeler, and Emily Aston, all hint at a menace that defies their ages.

The controversial scene that caused such a furore is violent, even brutal, but not gratuitous. It serves to underline the old adage that violence breeds violence.

A powerful, compelling piece of theatre. But be warned there is some violence and four letter words. Jennifer Bradbury

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.