“The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs” at Kiln Theatre
Jane Edwardes in North London
23 June 2025
“Remember,” urges Connie to the members of her choir, “you sound best when …?” “We listen to each other,” they all chorus. If only they were better at listening to each other when they are not singing. Iman Qureshi’s punchy comedy explores the febrile relationships of the members of Britain’s only lesbian choir. The comedy, first seen at Soho Theatre in 2022, sets the tone right from the start when the familiar lyrics of “These Are a Few of My Favourite Things”, including roses and raindrops, are replaced with such gems as “the soft brush of pubic hair on my chin”. Later Qureshi takes a dive into the intricacies of lesbian politics, which threaten to drive the choir apart. There are plenty of warnings at the beginning, especially when Ellie, the Donna Juanita of the choir, declares that “the lesbian choir is where relationships go to die”.
Zak Ghazi-Torbati.
Photo credit: Marc Senior.
Hannah Hauer-King’s engaging production is initially driven by a stream of jokes, most of them innuendos, as we become acquainted with the choir members. They meet in a leaking, cosily decrepit community centre, designed by Anna Reid. Shuna Snow’s Connie, known as an OWL, or older wiser lesbian, is one of the highlights of the evening. She conducts the choir with such commitment and fervour that it’s as if Hinge, or maybe Bracket, had been given a dose of speed. Among the regulars, along with Ellie (Fanta Barrie), is Fi (Liz Carr), a feisty wheelchair user, who knows that she will have to fight for everything, even such a small thing as a ramp; and Bridget (Mariah Louca), a trans lawyer, who would like to get together with Fi.
Into this all-inclusive mix come three new members: Lori, a black internet engineer, who has to be dragged along, but turns out to have the best voice of all; her bisexual partner, Ana (Georgie Henley), an ultra-serious academic steeped in queer theory; and Dina (Serena Manteghi). Qureshi’s last play The Funeral Director tackled Muslim homophobia. Now she looks at a Qatari woman, who is trapped in a marriage to an overbearing British man. She thinks she is gay but can’t leave her husband for fear of being sent home. It’s a potentially powerful subject which feels under-explored and rushed here. Children are mentioned but conveniently forgotten about at times.
The drama is propelled by the possibility of taking part in Pride. There has been some criticism that Pride has not sufficiently embraced lesbianism and looks to the choir to redress the balance. As they rehearse, it becomes clear that Lori and Ana’s seven-year relationship is going through difficult times, partly because Lori is still partially in the closet, and partly because Ana needs to find another job, as her current employers are embarrassed about having an all-white, post-colonial literature department. Can their relationship survive? Particularly since Dina’s arrival is largely because she fancies Lori.
In the second half, the play gets darker. The performance at Pride is initially a success. Why would it not be, given their eclectic repertoire of Carmina Burana and Lady Gaga? But then it gets hot, and Dina takes off a top to reveal a T-shirt underneath saying “Lesbian: A woman who loves women”. She is wearing it in all innocence, but the slogan is taken to be transphobic. The performance is brought to a halt, and the choir is humiliatingly told that they can never perform at Pride again. Even worse, as the row escalates, the women are supported by Mumsnet!
A disconsolate group gathers later, mostly appalled by the T-shirt, and supportive of Bridget. But is it possible to legislate for whom one should love? At least, Qureshi allows Fi to question what is wrong with the statement, and to broaden the argument out to rail against lesbians’ lack of power and their invisibility in contrast with gay men. But, then, everything she says is undermined by the fact that she is clearly drunk and apologizes when she is sober. Plays are wonderful spaces for holding different beliefs in a single room, but not when they are as weighted as this.
Zak Ghazi Torbati enjoys himself playing all the men in the show, one of whom kindly offers Ana a tissue when she is crying her heart out. The rest are predictably unpleasant, including a man in a pub, who is titillated by seeing a bunch of lesbians enjoying a night out, and Dina’s quite frightening husband.
The audience is likely to be largely made up of lesbians. But it’s not necessary to be a lesbian to enjoy the production. It’s an entertaining evening, despite the thinness of some of the characterization. In fact, the perfect way to celebrate Pride, whatever your sexuality.
