Rory Mullarkey is bored of your plays. He’s had enough of predictable plots and complex characters. Instead, he presents Pity: a barmy take on middle England society that feels like new wave Monty Python that yearns to be quirky and off-the-wall, but instead launches itself into a pile of rubble. Read more
“Two bombs in one day is a foul coincidence”
“Don’t forget the lightning strike”
A normal day.
A person stands in the market square watching the world go by.
What happens next verges on the ridiculous?
There’s ice cream. Sunshine. Shops. Some dogs. A wedding. Bombs. Candles. Blood. Lightning. Sandwiches. Snipers. Looting. Gunshots. Babies. Actors. Azaleas. Famine. Fountains. Statues. Atrocities.
And tanks. (Probably).
Rory Mullarkey’s new play asks whether things really are getting worse. And if we care.
“[Someone screaming]: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
Rory Mullarkey’s previous plays include the National Theatre’s production of Saint George and the Dragon, Each Slow Dusk (Pentabus Theatre) and The Wolf from the Door at the Royal Court.