Welcome one and all to another feminist art narration.
Commissaurs among you may have noticed that this intro does imply deep-seated childhood trauma, which is no surprise given that this is a feminist production.
Let's see how they plan to desecrate memories of their youth and act out their daddy issues in front of an audience.
As you can imagine, this is indeed the calm before a particularly vile storm.
Unsurprisingly, our main performer is on a swing.
You'll notice more references to childhood as a princess walks out of shot here and the main performer lulls the audience into a false sense of security.
And it's worth noting that this ballet dancing is the closest you will get to an actual artistic performance in this entire spectacle.
Yeah, that looks safe.
Nothing good ever follows the statement, just do it like you're in the zoo.
So prepare yourselves.
Yes, this is a naked feminist spasming in a harness before a crowd.
Yes, these are her dead eyes.
And this is the entire spectacle in all its glory.
It probably wasn't necessary to pixelate this part, but if you saw the original, you'd thank me.
God only knows what this degeneracy is meant to represent.
But they're only just getting started.
And here our mental patient pushes a condom out of her vagina.
Screams internally indeed.
But luckily for us, a half-naked Minotaur on roller skates turns up to restore some sanity.
I did say that they were going to defile their childhood memories, and I wasn't joking.
And here our feminist performer cocks her leg up like a dog and takes a piss.
I think we can all agree that she isn't waving to her parents.
I swear that this is not real blood.
I actually did check.
It is vile though.
Finally we get to vomiting, the least disgusting bodily fluid on offer here.
Probably not, because as far as I can tell, this is a woman breaking packets of ketchup on something that's protruding from her vagina.
Like you, dear viewer, I'm going to choose to believe that that bucket is filled with paint.
That seems like a rather spectacular non sequitur.
Sure, why not?
This is actually the gayest part of the whole thing and I am glad for it.
Nobody is excreting anything.
Thankfully we can all rest assured that this look of desperation is absolutely genuine.
And then our star gets pulled off the stage through the tour.
Why wouldn't she?
Unbelievably, people have actually put their names on this.
A surprising amount of people.
Supported by the Arts Council of England, Laban Theatre and the Queen Mary University of London.