Static

by Between the pines

At first, everything is ordinary.

A South London tower block on the edge of demolition. Three residents trying to get on with things: collecting post that arrives for people who moved out years ago, moss growing in the cracks of the walls, cooking dinner on a hob that works sometimes, damp patches on the ceiling, mice that are too smart to be trapped. There are notices on the doors. There are conversations in stairwells about who has been rehoused and who is still waiting. Rent increases, struggles to find a new place to live.

Nothing unusual—just the slow pressure of being moved on.

But small things start to drift.

A hallway light turns on before anyone touches the switch. A front door opens on its own. One tenant finds their voicemail has messages from a version of themselves who sounds older, calmer, already gone. Another discovers that the building’s floor plan now includes rooms they have walked past for years without ever seeing. Is it haunted?

At first, all of it can still be argued with. Faulty electrics. Stress.

Then the explanations stop working.

Time begins to misbehave in private ways: a kettle whistles without being turned on, a broken intercom starts answering in voices that don’t belong to anyone currently living there, corridors get smaller. The residents try to keep things practical—rent, work shifts, keys, food—but the building begins to loosen its grip on reality itself.

By the time the demolition crew is due, the block is no longer behaving like a structure so much as a toddler that won’t stay still. What begins as a social realist portrait of London housing gradually becomes something else: a live system of memory, repetition, and refusal—where the building won’t stop showing what has already been erased.

A small-cast, movement-led piece that begins naturalistic and ends in controlled abstraction through sound, repetition and poetry.

A story about a building being cleared out.

And what refuses to be cleared with it.

Written & Directed by Michael Sookhan

Date & Time: Friday 25th September @ 7pm

Running Time: 60 mins

Content warnings: 12+, flashing lights

Latecomers may not be admitted. ​Ticket purchases are non refundable.

Concession prices apply to students; under 18s; pensioners; those on disability and unemployment benefits; Equity, BECTU & SDUK members.

The Bread & Roses Theatre is an unfunded venue that continues to operate on ticket sales only. Donations help support independent arts and theatremakers, an essential step in preserving the future of fringe theatre.