With a name like Dances for Wolves, and listed as being a comedy burlesque, I had some high hopes for this play. Indeed I had some hopes, I feel however that if I had entered the room with no hope I would still have been disappointed. You see to achieve purpose, this play would have to have been either a credible burlesque show, or an amusing comedy, or some mingling of the pair. Sadly in this instance the comedy was itself laughable rather than causing mirth by virtue of good writing, and the burlesque was that modernised conceit wherein anything involving corsets and fishnet tights somehow counts as a burlesque show.
The play itself was some story of five strippers in a seedy nightclub, who are vying for the chance to dance for the 'Wolves' or rather the Wolverhampton Football Club players and their millionaire manager. What follows was an unfortunate excruciation of discomfort as the five actors gyrated foully, albeit purposely so, and tried to make the audience care which one won the final filthy accolade. If there was a lick of talent on display here it was in the singing voices being subjected to the god-awful songs. Save yourself the pain, do something else, do anything else, you'd be more titillated by roadworks and find more laughs per minute at a Tory Party Conference.