She has glittery nail extensions and her hair scraped back. On a night out, she is all fluttering eyelashes and enormous gold platforms. She is not the picture of your average Cambridge undergraduate. Which is exactly the point of this tremendous solo show in which Jade Franks – remember the name – skewers the institution of class privilege in a performance that is as funny as it is politically stinging.
She writes from experience. A child of working-class Liverpool (her relatives are in the front row at my performance, adding to the backchatting merriment), Franks is employed at a call centre when inspiration strikes. She was always good at school and full of ambition – why shouldn’t she apply to Oxbridge?
