The politician who makes John Prescott look like Mother Teresa goes on the road in this new show by creators Marks and Gran.
 | | Rik Mayall and Alexandra Gunn |
The wonderfully acerbic Alan B'stard remains to tact and diplomacy what the England football team is to scoring goals in this show that accentuates his utter nastiness and toe-creeping lack of humanity. The man, whose language was obviously considerably restricted by the more family-orientated requirements of the TV screen, can now let fly with a torrent of invective and profanity that would embarrass a barrack room full of squaddies. The B'stard tongue The plot, such as it is, involves various strands including the kidnapping of Tony Blair, the sale of nuclear weapons to Islamic fundamentalist terrorists, the murder of his fourth wife, joining the Trillionaires' Club and a plan to substitute Norway for Iraq - Operation Ikea - in the attentions of the US government. But the plot is at all times supplementary to the superbly ghastly Alan and his schemes to get even richer, rid himself of his estranged wife - the appropriately named Arabella Lucretia - and bed the woman George Bush calls "the funky black chick" - Condoleezza, who doesn't need to see Blair ("we e-mail him his orders"). Nobody, and certainly no institution, is spared the B'stard tongue.
 | | Jolyon Dixon, Rik Mayall and Mike Sherman |
His sidekick, the downtrodden "old Labour" junior minister Frank (Garry Cooper) is so ignorant he's "like a member of the public", while it's probably best not spell out too explicitly the insults he directs at proletarian "northerners" and unmarried mothers.
What's more, the scheming hand of the duplicitous Alan seems to have been behind each and every shortcoming and scandal New Labour has become embroiled in throughout its time in government. Cash for Honours, the enigmatic death of weapons expert David Kelly, even John Smith's fatal heart attack - he's had a hand in them all. When it comes to the controversial Hutton report, you can guess who really composed it. Jeremy Paxman, Alan B'astard and David Cameron Rik Mayall is utterly superb as B'stard, wallowing in each of the character's excesses and striking up a fine rapport with an appreciative audience, who were even more delighted at the moment he came very close to corpsing.
 | | Rik Mayall and Helen Baker |
If at times the characterisation veers towards pantomime villainy, Mayall soon relocates in the world of satire, reminding us that these shenanigans are, in truth, perhaps not so far removed from some of the bizarre goings on in the house of New Labour. There is fine support from Garry Cooper who personifies old working-class socialism and who turns out to have a few embarrassing skeletons in his own share-dealing cupboard, Helen Baker as Flora, the privately educated, posh ambitious conservative gal who finds her natural political home in New Labour (ring any bells?), and Alexandra Gunn as Condoleezza. Jennie Darnell's direction sets a cracking pace throughout, and designer Bob Bailey's 9 Downing Street set is spot on. If, like me, you always thought the TV version was necessarily hampered by the restrictions of the medium, try this somewhat less confined version where the gloves are well and truly off. As Blair's grip on power finally loosens and B'stard moves more and more into a position of prominence in the New Labour hierarchy, I now look forward to the spectacle of Jeremy Paxman chairing a head-to-head between Alan B'stard and David Cameron. Now that would be a show to see. | 
