"Well this is a fine mess I've got myself into" I mumbled to myself as I trudged wearily to The Burton Taylor to watch Bash.

None of my friends could be bothered to take up the offer of the second free ticket and so I alone would have to endure the hour and a half of student drama in this poxy little theatre.

It was only afterwards I realised that I actually enjoyed the honour and privilege of witnessing three fabulously acted mini plays in the intimate splendour of a wonderfully close playhouse.

People, I can't say this enough; this kind of theatre is a bit like exercise, it might be uncomfortable to do but ultimately it'll leave you with a warm glow and an excited mind.

Bash is a set of three half-hour monologues, or in the case of the middle piece, duologues. I'd fidget and play more attention to my socks for the first couple of minutes but gradually I'd become totally gripped by the harrowing stories of self confession.

I actually woke up this morning mulling over the grievous implications of one of the dark tales as though it was a real event. That is a tribute to the truly natural delivery by the whole cast.

For a more analytical assessment of the show please read Alexandra Clarke's review in the Oxford Student where other elements are skilfully highlighted with words like Juxtaposition. Better still go and see it.