I love the title and idea of Richard Cameron’s The Flannelettes. In rooms which during the miners’ strike housed a soup kitchen and are now a women’s refuge, a group prepare a concert. They will sway, in clinging turquoise frocks with silver trim and crow’s nest wigs, harmonising their lives in Will You Love Me Tomorrow and Nowhere to Run. One of them is a sweet-voiced, simple girl; another is a man in drag. There is much implied history here but it is never properly unpacked, crowded out with scurrying plot lines. Even the deft directorial hand of Mike Bradwell can’t stop the drama stuttering. Not so much a well made as a well meant play.
