Have you every been licked on the forehead by a green-faced lunch lady? Mounted by a maddened school-slop-server and forced to sign their t-shirt?
Meet Barbara (Tanika Lay-Meachen) and Veronica (Matt Straker), top dinnerladies at the Buzz Lightyear School for Average Children. In a world where the choice between a school dinner and a packed lunch could prove to be (mildly) deadly, you never quite know what will come next. From tackling outrageous gossip about the teachers, to hen-pecked storytelling: school’s in session for one final time before Barbara and Veronica leave for pastures new. They’re not supposed to be left alone with the students, but what’s the harm in a little hand feeding, or a tap from a wooden spoon, with such a naughty audience to handle?
Serving bizarre bouffon energy with a side of highly suspicious mac and cheese, audience interaction takes the lead in Class War. This is a high risk approach because you never quite know how those watching will react. A man is ordered to come on stage, moments after believing he’d escaped. He swears quietly to himself, grinning gleefully, as an ‘aeroplane’ full of unidentified sculpted gloop careers towards his lips on a wooden spoon. The risk of having a show so heavy with audience interaction pays off beautifully here because both Lay-Meachen and Straker are that most unusual of things. Extraordinarily talented, sharp-witted and so precisely in tune with each other. The connection, complicité and absolute willingness to jump aboard any suggestion from each other, and those watching, makes this show unmissable. They have the audience eating out of their grubby little palms.
It’s tempting to say that there are no notes, because honestly, acclaim is so deliciously deserved here. If we were to make one minor note, it’s that sections with pre-recorded sounds don’t quite hit home in the same way as the noises the deranged duo make themselves. It still works, and it’s such a small thing, but in a show that’s otherwise outstanding, it may be worth bearing in mind.
Rarely, an act comes along that gives you the feeling that there’s pure magic at play. We’re in a realm so close to perfection we can taste it. Class War taps into a kind of giddy, guilty glee. So ridiculously funny. So sensationally silly. We laugh like children. The person sat next to this reviewer seems to be on the verge of crying with joy. We can’t blame them.
Lady Bolognese are at the top of their game, and Class War is among the top three shows, of many, this reviewer covered in 2025. This is all the more astounding bearing in mind the show is at a work-in-progress stage. Watch out, leading London clowns. Lady Bolognese are snapping at your heels, and their sharp little teeth have bite.
Reviewed on 15 November 2025.
