It opens with a beat. That deep, seductive pulse you only hear underground, past the cloakroom, down where the lights flicker and the walls sweat. Jock Night, now playing at Seven Dials Playhouse, brings us into that space, into the locker rooms of the heart, into the haze of chem highs and self-worth lows, into what it really means to long for connection in a world built to avoid it.

Written and directed by Adam Zane, this is not just a play about parties or PrEP. It is a sharp, funny, and brutally honest look at the queer spaces we build and what gets lost inside them. Spanning four months and four different nights at a Manchester sex party, Jock Night follows five men: Ben, Kam, Russell, Simon, and AJ, whose lives intertwine under the red glow of club lights and the unspoken rules of cruising culture.

The set is minimalistic, but the cast, mostly stripped down to their jocks for 80 percent of the time, creates the atmosphere. There is nowhere to hide. Butts flash freely, bodies move with ease, and at one point, full frontal nudity pushes the already hot ambience into its boiling point. The first half plays like a fever dream, bold, sweaty, sometimes chaotic. Passion drives every entrance, every stare, every collision. It is over the top, camp, at times even too much. But that is part of the point.

Then, without warning, it shifts. In the second half, the noise drops. The lights stay low, but the words get real. The acting, suddenly, lands deep. The jokes stay, sharp, fast, well-delivered, but the emotional weight kicks in. This is where Jock Night finds its heart.

David Paisley leads the cast with fragility and force, bringing tenderness to a role that carries both desire and shame. Eddie Ahrens, Gabriel Clark, James Colebrook, and Olympic gold medallist Matthew Mitcham round out the ensemble with performances that move confidently between collapse and comedy.

Sometimes it is funny. “After our first kiss, he licked your balls and I sucked your cock. Hardly a scene from Love, Actually.” It lands with the kind of honesty only queer humour knows, dark, direct, and full of ache.
Other times, it is quietly devastating. “I just want one night where we forget everything out there.” No pose, no performance. Just a need for intimacy in a world spinning too fast.
And then there is pride. “We aren’t unclean. We are undetectable. I’m proud.” A sentence that flips decades of stigma on its head.

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Even the casual lines linger. “You are the only Grindr shag that I’ve met, fucked all night, and then been given a Sunday roast the next day.” It is funny, but it cuts deep. That longing to be seen not just naked, but whole.
Or this one, collapsing under the weight of jealousy: “I know I should be a cock… I don’t mean that. I mean, he’s your Disney Prince, isn’t he?”
And maybe the most poetic of all: “It’s not really a smile, it’s the lid on a scream.”

The production flows confidently, like a well-built boat on wavy open waters. Zane’s direction is assured, deliberate, and deeply informed by the lived realities behind the fiction. Every choice feels placed with intention, every beat allowed to breathe. Dick Longdin’s stripped-back design and David Clare’s lighting pulse in sync with the characters’ states of mind, while Matt Gill’s sound design keeps the floor moving and sometimes trembling.

What stays after the sweat has dried is not the fantasy of fucking everyone everywhere on every drug you can find. It is something quieter. Jock Night leaves you with a message about truth. Being honest with yourself, staying loyal to your friends, and learning to appreciate the life you have.

The sex is real. The jokes are sharp. But the feeling that stays is something deeper. And that is what makes this play worth seeing.

Running at Seven Dials Playhouse until 22 June
🎟️ sevendialsplayhouse.co.uk

#JockNightPlay #QueerTheatre #ChemsexAwareness #HIVStigma #SevenDialsPlayhouse #TheFlickerMagazine

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