B'stard is back

MY goodness, has it really been 15 years since Alan B'stard darkened our TV screens?

The greedy, snobbish, arriviste ultra-Thatcherite MP, played with gleeful viciousness by Rik Mayall, horrified and delighted us in equal measure as he stuck his snout in the trough, his bits in any woman foolish enough to submit and his fingers up at the electorate.

Elected in 1987 at the height of Thatcher's reign of terror, B'stard epitomised everything most hateful about her "new breed" of Tory and served as a useful spleen-venting device for Labour-supporting writers Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran.

Some of the best satire ever to come out of ITV - alongside Spitting Image, of course - B'stard was prepared to commit any act of depravity, including murder, to further his career or merely to indulge his sadistic impulses.

You might think that the election of a Labour government in 1997 would finally lay his ghost to rest. Things can only get better after all.

But, for such an opportunistic shyster as B'stard - coupled with the arrival of a similarly opportunistic shyster as Prime Minister - new Labour is merely another opportunity.

Mayall is breathing new life into B'stard in a touring theatre production of The New Statesman.

Before this production at the New Wimbledon Theatre, Mayall explained B'Stard's decision to join the Blairites.

"They are young, they are sexy and they are much more right-wing than the Conservative Party," he pointed out.

And, for B'stard, it really is business as usual. Decked out in his well-tailored blue pinstripe and cosily ensconced in Number Nine Downing Street as the Prime Minister's right-hand man, he is beavering merrily away as head of the Price for Peerages programme.

As hectoring and snobbish as ever, B'stard informs his underling that he "still gets horny" thinking about the social misery wreaked by the defeat of the miners' strike.

As the play develops, we gradually find out that, satanically, B'stard has been behind all of the most egregious acts of the last decade and beyond.

Labour's decision to ditch clause four? Yep, that was his idea. The man who tried to plant WMDs in Iraq so that Bush could snaffle its oil? You guessed it. Indeed, he reveals that the entire new Labour project was his idea.

"I found this failed rock'n'roll singer called Blair who had a certain naive charisma," he crows.

"I knew that, with proper political coaching by yours truly, he would adopt all those good old Tory policies."

What really rings true about the production is how natural it all seems. Eleven years on from the last television appearance and it merely looks as if B'stard has enjoyed a brief hiatus between series.

Some things are different, of course. Gone is the cerebrally challenged Tory backbencher Piers Fletcher-Dervish who served as his dogsbody and whipping boy.

Instead, B'stard's junior minister is Frank Lee, a browbeaten former union general secretary and "old Labour" lefty relic.

Lee "talks a good fight," boasting about the number of times that he was arrested on "t'picket line" and railing against the hijacking of his party by the new Labour cuckoos, but still puts up with B'stard's insults and does his bidding.

He stands up for himself more than Fletcher-Dervish, but always allows his boss to win the argument.

His reward? B'stard informs him that his "cronies" are to be permitted to vote against the second reading of the Suppression of Chewing Gum Bill.

Of course, we find out that Lee is morally compromised - B'stard has copies of the shares that Lee took out in the privatised coal industry in 1985. There is also something even worse than this, something that would destroy his credibility among the comrades forever if it were ever to come out. It is too appalling to repeat here. You'll just have to see the play.

Still waiting nearby to plunge the knife in is B'stard's estranged wife, played once again by Marsha Fitzalan, who also looks like she has been in suspended animation since the last TV series.

Now I'll say straight away that this ain't Tom Stoppard. What Marks and Gran serve up is a solid Whitehall farce, where we are invited to witness the government spiral to destruction as B'stard rises above it all.

Marks, a lifelong Labour member, has stated that he despises Blair and new Labour and the aim of this production is to kick 'em while they are down. And jolly good too.

The audience share this aim, it appears. The biggest cheer of the night occurs when B'stard subjects "Tony" to a foul-mouthed tirade by phone. People just like the thought of Blair getting a bollocking, it appears.

Lee's impassioned speech about renationalising coal, gas and rail and taxing the rich at 90 per cent also raises a cheer, albeit a slightly muted one. This is Wimbledon, after all.

Mayall has made a career out of playing grotesques and merrily indulges himself onstage. He makes a number of mistakes with the script and direction, but is adept at turning these into minor triumphs, flicking the Vs at the crowd to cover his embarrassment while ad-libbing his way out of trouble.

This is not a play for somebody who wants gritty, deep drama. It is, however, ideal for somebody who wants an adult pantomime and some old-time, visceral satire.

The New Statesman tour continues at the Bristol Hippodrome until May 6, Oxford New Theatre from May 8-13, York Grand Opera House from May 15-20, Stoke-on-Trent Regent Theatre May 22-27, Bromley Churchill Theatre from May 29-June 3, the Edinburgh Playhouse from June 5-10, Birmingham Alexandra Theatre from June 12-17, Manchester Opera House from June 19-24, Glasgow King's Theatre from 26 June 26-July 1, Reading Hexagon from July 3-8, Plymouth Theatre Royal from July 10-15, Woking New Victoria Theatre from July 17-22 and the Milton Keynes Theatre from July 24-29.