No Sacred Cows: The Riotous Irreverence of A Court of Bran and Raisins

A court of Bran and Raisins staged by the late breakfast show is a humdinger of a variety show, brimming with hilarious irreverence, licentiousness and sardonic social commentary. This rollicking spectacle courts the truly absurd, exhibiting raucous humour with a blistering creative edge to deliver a riotous mix of satire and farce, skewering everything from religion, gender norms, social media and human sexuality. This troupe has no sacred cows, their work is a hilarious examination of social anxieties and cultural contradictions. Shows like these have a brilliant way of inverting social reality, everything that seems normal or accepted is in the span of a few minutes turned on its head, presenting us with the complexities of our unquestioned assumptions and social myths. For example, one of the hilarious skits presented by the troupe was a gut-busting bit on the sexual excesses of modern dating culture, all thrill and no commitment. Yet, at the end of the skit, the actors turn the tables and present monogamy as the most ironic of all sexual commitments - promising security and exclusivity yet riddled with contradictions and unmet desires. The infrequent routines of domestic intimacy, the mad clutter of child-rearing, and the tug of a sterile daily life all reveal monogamy to be the pinnacle of sexual absurdity. What could be crazier, and more outlandish than the sheer lunacy required to stay in such a relationship? Like all great variety shows, the troupe leaves room for interpretive ambiguity, is it a defence of monogamy's resilience or a critique of its exhausting demands? Who knows, but that is the brilliance of this troupe. They leave their audience in a heightened state of playful uncertainty, allowing us to make what we will of what is seen on stage. Another example, a delightful skit on the usage of social media, featured the actors embodying TikTok profiles speaking to someone on her phone, each voice part of the cacophony and dissonance of competing social media narratives. The noise culminates into a discussion as to whether she has ADHD or Autism, this brilliantly captures the perils of personal self-awareness giving way to the impersonal and decontextualized diagnoses of the digital hivemind. One of the raunchiest skits was an exorcism performed by both a libidinous character pretending to be a priest and an actual priest, the former stating in between the exorcism that he was gripped by an overwhelming desire to perform fellatio on his counterpart. Eventually, he receives a revelation and discovers that he is required to perform fellatio on himself if the exorcism is to be successful, proceeds to do it and thereby releases an unfortunate subject from the grip of a demon. This might be an insightful jab at religious ritualism and the perfidious nature of religious revelations, suggesting that ceremonies such as these are thinly veiled expressions of personal desires rather than sincere spiritual intention. The fake priest, under the guise of an exorcism, underscores the performative nature of religious conduct and authority, exposing the inner hypocrisy of rituals that claim to purify the spirit while masking sexually repressed desires. The suggestion might be that true evil is the impulse to appear virtuous while concealing baser instincts. Who knows. This is usually the mark of great performative material, content that is raunchy and brash, yet also invites the audience to engage in some reflection. The performances were top-notch, these folks were comfortable in their skin and comfortable living large in front of us. This was very, very refreshing to see, actors and performers who are not pre-possessed by their own presence but more interested in allowing the stories to speak through them. The performances felt effortless, and their openness brought a communal authenticity to the stage, reminiscent of historical accounts of medieval troupes who roamed from village to village with nothing more than a sterling talent for ribaldrous storytelling. This troupe embodied a true sense of shared kinship, feeling like one organic whole, liberated from the modern pretences of performance. Sure, the humour was contemporary, but the essence was classic, redolent of a tradition that was based on collective sincerity over individual spotlight. The performers seemed less interested in standing out than in developing a shared experience. Their work reminds us that great storytelling is about connection, laughter and community - a fusion of the roving storyteller's spirit with a zany new-age intellect. In the hands of folks like these, storytelling becomes a living, breathing celebration of our shared experiences, reminding us that the power of downright dirty tales with intelligent self-reflection is as timeless and vital as ever.

They have a few shows left - go and catch these awesome folks while you still can.