The theme underpinning Philip Ridley’s 2015 play Radiant Vermin is sempiternal: can means justify ends? Ollie and Jill walk on to the stage from the auditorium and tell us their story – so far. Nineteen-and-a-half months ago, they were living in a tiny flat on a sink estate and expecting their first baby. It’s the sort of place where you feel abandoned by God, mourns Jill to Miss Dee, representative of a “new government department”. This Mephistophelean figure in a fuchsia power suit makes the couple an offer she is sure they won’t refuse: their dream home. “The catch?” wonders Ollie, looking at the run-down building on a derelict, uninhabited estate. They must agree to renovate and so encourage others to move into the area, thus making it “a property hotspot”, explains Miss Dee, holding out the contract. Jill and Ollie sign – for the sake of their child’s future.
It looks as if months of hard labour are in store for Ollie, but on their first night there, he accidentally kills a homeless intruder in the kitchen. As a consequence of this event, the unfinished room is miraculously, instantaneously, fully kitted out with latest units and white goods. The house must be finished quickly for the sake of their unborn child. Jill’s “Christian values” are quickly overcome. “Vermin” must die. The audience is asked to vote – which next: bathroom or garage?
