From its beginnings at the old King’s Head to an acclaimed Park Theatre run, Paul Bradshaw’s queer storytelling has come full circle. Now he’s back with two plays, an award-winning creative team and plenty of uncomfortable questions.
Going back to where it all started can be a dangerous business. The ex is rarely worth another go. That old haircut certainly isn’t. But Paul Bradshaw’s return to King’s Head Theatre has rather more going for it.
The writer and performer is bringing tell me straight home, alongside companion piece aggy, for a double bill exploring queer desire, identity and the things we’ll do to get what we want. Following a critically acclaimed run at Park Theatre, the pairing is now playing in Islington until 14 November.
For Bradshaw, it’s a particularly satisfying return. tell me straight began its journey at the old King’s Head venue in 2021. Five years later, it’s back under the theatre’s banner with another play in tow and a creative team whose awards credentials deserve a shelf of their own.
From the old King’s Head to a double-bill homecoming
There’s something pleasing about a theatre story that comes back to its starting point. Especially when the work itself is concerned with people trying to move forward while their habits tug them backwards.
Bradshaw’s return brings that history into focus. Audiences who caught tell me straight in its earlier incarnation have a chance to reconnect with it. Those discovering his writing now can encounter two different sides of his work in one visit.
GLL previously covered the double bill’s arrival at Park Theatre. This next chapter brings the plays to the King’s Head with critical acclaim behind them, including four stars from The Stage, which described the work as “neatly crafted and thoughtfully foreshadowed”.
A homecoming, then, with a little more baggage. The useful kind.
tell me straight: familiar trouble, questionable men
Bradshaw stars in tell me straight, a fast-paced, semi-autobiographical coming-of-adulthood story about navigating sexuality and learning to embrace it.
Its central character, Him, has a dating pattern that his best friend can apparently spot from space. His hookups have one thing in common. They’re all straight.
Dani’s proposed solution is beautifully uncomplicated. Find “a gay man who actually likes gay men!”
Sound advice. Whether Him is ready to take it is another matter.
Anyone who’s watched a friend turn emotional unavailability into a personal challenge will recognise the territory. So will anyone who’s been that friend, although you’re welcome to maintain a dignified silence.
Him attempts a 30-day detox, cutting out booze, fast food and men. It’s an ambitious bit of life admin, particularly when distractions arrive in the shape of Lee, Ryan and oldest friend Matt.
Underneath the dating chaos sits a question with considerably more staying power than a late-night message. What happens when the people we pursue keep us at a distance from the connection we say we want?
The premise leaves room for humour and recognition without requiring a tidy dating history from anyone in the audience. Which is fortunate. We’d hate to see the attendance requirements.
aggy: when ambition moves in
Where tell me straight begins with the men someone keeps choosing, aggy turns towards an established relationship and the pressures gathering inside it.
Lawrence and Mahlik have been together for a year. Things are going well. When Mahlik’s flat contract comes to an end, moving in together seems like the obvious next step.
Shared space, shared plans, perhaps a quietly escalating disagreement about cupboard allocation. So far, so domestic.
Then, following another tough rejection, Mahlik makes a risky suggestion for Lawrence’s next creative project. Success follows, bringing uncomfortable truths into a relationship that suddenly has much more to negotiate.
Bradshaw’s one-act play explores privilege, gender, race and creativity, asking who gets to make art and how people police one another’s identities.
That’s combustible territory, particularly when professional ambition and private loyalty start occupying the same room. Supporting a partner sounds straightforward until their success changes the terms of the relationship.
The setup invites questions about opportunity, recognition and what people feel entitled to claim. It also puts those questions somewhere intimate. These are people sharing a life, with all the affection, dependence and potential for damage that involves.
There’s plenty here to take into the interval, or the conversation afterwards. Choose your theatre companion accordingly.
An award-winning creative team
The return comes with an impressive group of theatre-makers behind it.
Set and costume design is by Olivier-nominated Damien Stanton, with lighting from OFFIE winner Cheng Keng and sound by Black British Theatre Award winner Eamonn O’Dwyer. Stage Award-shortlisted Matt Powell provides video design.
Alongside Bradshaw, the creative credits include Imogen Frances as co-director and intimacy director.
The team brings together the different disciplines needed to tell stories in which the private and public versions of a person can pull in different directions. A phone, an image, a room shared with someone else. Everyday things become loaded when desire or ambition enters the picture.
For this homecoming, the creative pedigree is part of the draw, alongside the chance to see Bradshaw’s writing across two contrasting plays.
Two plays, plenty to talk about
Taken together, the premises offer a particularly tempting evening for audiences interested in the messier corners of queer life.
One follows a man whose romantic habits need serious attention. The other places a couple’s future under pressure as creative success arrives. Desire, validation and the versions of ourselves we offer other people run through both.
For London audiences, there’s an added pleasure in seeing a writer return to a theatre connected with his beginnings. The old venue belongs to the story, but this engagement gives new audiences their own way in.
Whether you’re arriving for the dating disasters, the relationship politics or Bradshaw’s full-circle moment, there’s plenty on the bill. And if Dani’s advice sounds suspiciously relevant to your own life, perhaps leave a little time afterwards for a debrief.
tell me straight and aggy are at King’s Head Theatre, 116P Upper Street, London N1 1QP, until 14 November 2026. Each play runs for 65 minutes, with a 20-minute interval. Age guidance is 16+.
Content includes strong language, depictions of violence, sexual scenes, discussions of racism, gender and discrimination, flashing lights and haze.
Check performance times and book tickets at King’s Head Theatre.
