The cast is a refined tranny of Indian origian, a Sufi Turkiish landlord called Hassan, his son, Hassan, who suffers from alcohol-related amnesia, a couple of Bradford Salafi Islamists with an embarrassing Sufi grandad, their sister fugitive from an arranged marriage, their big-minded father, an ex-trade unionist native-Brit racist Conservative voting next-door neighbour, a diversity-trained police officer who is so enraptured by this multicultural tableau that he overlooks the crime scene behind the sofa, and a builder (of the eponymous extension) with something under his hat.
The play was a very enjoyable farce centred on prejudice and bigotry. Meanwhile, life was imitating art on Question Time, where a man leading a party whose constitution illegally excludes non-caucasians from membership got his chance to squirm under public scrutiny.
While Nick Griffin was given a voice, mine fell victim to an unprecedented throat infection and I remained practically mute for the after-show drinks. Now it’s gone completely.