Polished, professional and delivered with aplomb. Annette McLaughlin, Jan Shepherd and Laura Harvey gave voice to the monologues recorded by American playwright Eve Ensler a decade ago. The Vagina Monologues is a series of stories about women and their attitudes to their vaginas. Some are old, some are sex workers, some have been raped, and others are simply relating their attitudes to the most untalked-about organ. It was funny, feisty and very female. Indeed, men were divided into those who were sympathetic shall we say, the Bobs of this world - Bob being a character in one of the stories - and non-Bobs: I guess the majority of men. There was a certain triumphalism which the cast shared with the overwhelmingly female audience. Having read the play, I thought that I knew what stories I was in for. Some were harrowing, some were revealing, and some were frankly hilarious tales of the female 'down-there region'. The drama followed the text as I recalled it, but I was caught out by the connection the subject had with the audience. They identified with every revelation, emphathised with every secret, visualised each fantasy and laughed raucously with the numerous in-jokes. Much of this was a puzzle to me, as I was in a tiny minority in the theatre: I was a man. It is the only time I've felt slightly uncomfortable, even exposed, at a production. Despite using my imagination and trying my hardest to understand Ensler's world, I don't have a vagina. Laura Harvey's precise Scottish vowels were a perfection of clarity and her enthusiasm and range of voices swept me away into the world of tampons, sanitary towels and sex from a female point of view. Annette McLaughlin sat in the middle of the three actors and was the only one of the trio to wear trousers - mainly because of her energetic demonstrations of female climaxes. Hers was the most gutsy of the performances winning the audience over with a somewhat earthy style of delivery. Jan Harvey came across as the friendlier and most one-of-us type of person - even though she also had a range of voices and stories to portray. The play was performed in a static style. There were three performers, three chat show-type stools, three spotlights and a glitzy backdrop and carpet. The actors remained seated for virtually the whole play. This was never going to be a depressing or didactic drama. It was uplifting, even liberating, and for me revealing. To borrow from the play's origins based on interviews with real women, the performers spoke into microphones as they made their confessions, used notes as props which they didn't seem to use, and took it in turns to bring Ensler's script to life. They never appeared to slip or have any wobbly moments. It was an impressive piece of theatre which attracted a wide range of women of all ages and seemingly social backgrounds - most of whom were dressed up for a girl's night out. The few men (I counted about 15) appeared to be partners or husbands - I couldn't imagine this play to be an idea for a lad's night out despite the subject. By the interval I decided I needed a drink. Downing a pint of strong cider I got talking to one of the few chaps there. We immediately bonded and found ourselves talking about the off-side rule in football, our ears closed, as all around women talked in earnest tones about their vagina experiences. Put it this way: the evening was an education. The Vagina Monologues is showing at Taunton's Brewhouse Theatre on 5 and 6 December, 2006 | 
