‘There are three people on stage. Don’t tell the Beckett Estate. Shit!’

Turns out that Edward Beckett sees the benefit in making uncle Samuel’s work more accessible. Eureka! He allows Jess Thoms, aka Touretteshero, to adapt the work to suit her particular physical and neurological requirements.

Many of Beckett’s characters are disabled. Think of Endgame: Hamm’s parents, confined to dustbins, Hamm himself blind and unable to stand, his servant unable to sit. Or Winnie in Happy Days, buried up to her neck in sand. But it’s Mouth, poor Mouth, just a mouth, who is most trapped. Isolated eight foot above us in a circle of light, uncertain how she came to be here, or of what has passed. Imagine!

Jess Thoms is bold and bloody-minded about a theatre world that for years denied her the freedom to be herself. To move and shout and tic as she does, without feeling she is ruining the show for everyone else. Since making her first show, the joyful autobiographical Backstage In Biscuit Land – ‘biscuit’ being her most frequent tic – she has become a fierce and passionate advocate for disability rights and a rigorous and courageous theatre maker.

Tackling Beckett’s most demanding work is daunting for any actress: a thirteen minute unrelenting stream of consciousness which circles in on itself in short phrases separated by gasps for breath. Jessica Tandy was traumatised by it 1972 (Forum Theater, New York) and more recently Lisa Dwan has described the experience of being strapped into position, unable to move or see, delivering lines at breakneck speed.

Jess introduces her version to us at floor level, the audience sitting on low benches or cushions, and explains how Tourettes affects her performance. She tell us we are free to move about and make any noises we need to make. With her is British Sign Language interpreter Charmaine Wombwell. Pregnant! She’ll be performing the work too, including any unscripted ‘biscuits.’

Darkness. Light on a face above us, LED-lights hidden in a hood illuminate Mouth and a bit of nose. Then she’s off, words spilling out of her, she can’t stop the stream. There has been no love of any kind and now Mouth is coming up to 70. And all the time the buzzing in the skull. Is it some kind of punishment? It’s not hard to see why this piece resonated so strongly with Jess, and why she spent a year learning it, and longer gathering the right team around her to make it happen. Certain lines are so true to Jess’s experience it stops you in your tracks: ‘…and the brain…raving away on its own…trying to make sense of it…or make it stop.’

Bringing out all the poetry and rage of the text, Jess is spellbinding to watch, occasionally bashing at her chest, sometimes unable to hold back the ‘biscuits’ which want to fill the silences. Blimey! Charmaine translates it all in concert with Jess, which splits the focus somewhat as both are fascinating to watch.

A behind-the-scenes film follows, showing how the piece was made, with technical experts and mentors, directors and designers. It’s a fascinating insight into the process, and brilliant to see Rosemary Poutney, one of the first performers of Not I, share her experience with Jess.

To complete the event, we’re invited to talk to our neighbours. Mine happen to be Mr and Mrs Thoms, who seem awestruck by their daughter – and rightly so. After a short Q&A we’re encouraged to make some noise. I’m happy to do so, but feel I would have liked to make more noise at the end of her performance, Bravo! and then to sit with it for a while. It’s great to grasp the opportunity to share your passion for equality and diversity with the audience, but I’d have loved a little longer with Mouth, and time to process the experience. The art says it all.