You are browsing our archive of past reviews. Shows often evolve and develop as time goes on, so the views expressed here may not be an accurate reflection of current productions.

You don’t want to get Jenan Younis too mad; she’s a real-life bowel surgeon, with a probing knowledge of laxatives. She understands her anger, can identify its causes, and wants to get to know it better before letting it pass. She would share the experience with us.

Dr Younis brings her theatre blues to the stage, and wears workaday trainers with them. There’s nothing flash about her, which within the competitive confines of women-in-surgery might be regarded as perverse. Her more senior colleagues would not be seen dead outside the operating theatre without their Mulberry bags and Prada shoes.

Her style is conversational, unassuming and respectful. She is, after all, a highly trained professional and she is giving us her advice for free. However, some of her female colleagues are out there on Facebook touting for 5* star reviews of their practice, which is pretty gut wrenching. When it all gets too, too, much, and being peeved is just pathetically inadequate, you simply have to throw stuff in the operating room.

And this will earn you a place on an anger management course. These courses do exist, and doctors in need gain from them, because dysfunctional medics are not much help – least of all within the right-on “team” paradigms of today’s A&E. Younis demonstrates a “stage 1 distraction mechanism” that is supposed to work, but I was not convinced, and I wonder if she is either. Maybe her on-stage persona is so in control that it deliberately defies pesky belief. 

There could be more, but this is a thirty minute show, and no doubt some good material has gone under the knife. I thought hospital managers would be next to get their insides turned, out but no. And I’m sure Younis can guddle around in the hierarchy of Consultant/Junior-Doctor/Nursing-Staff and come out with a few laparotomies.

Instead there were wicked breakouts to the mobile phone shop, and narked calls to car breakdown services. These were fun, and I liked the reminders of my “youf” in the SE postcodes – but I would have preferred to stay with the NHS, and how to take down Ms Mulberry FRCS and her pink coffee flask.