Cybil Service at the Vaults Festival  ★★★

The Vaults Festival is coming to an end. And it’s likely to be permanent. So go now or go never. Whether it’s your first time at the Vaults or your hundredth, Cybil Service by Salmaan Mohammed is a prime example of the zesty, quirky and downright queer fare that the Vaults Festival has brought to the London fringe scene.

At the start Salmaan, in their drag alter ego of Cybll Service, declares ‘this is a show about public policy’. That’s a cheeky way to introduce a show about a drag queen going down the rabbit hole of civil service office life, zoom calls, microaggressions, and how to make WFH as NSFW as possible. 

Prior to Covid Cybil is living their life. It’s a you-do-you drag queen helter-skelter. Morning starts with a wholesome drag queen story tale session for kids (remarkably absent of Proud Boy protesters, legal challenges, and trolls just 3 years ago). Then a quick performance at a boozy drag brunch in a Croydon shopping centre. Mid-afternoon involves officiating a lesbian betrothal with a theme of Old Hollywood Glamour. Then it’s off to MC a karaoke night. A heel-torturing session as the door whore of the hottest nightclub comes next. Finally a spot of catching up with a friend celebrating their top surgery. It may not be everyone’s dream but for Cybil, it’s drinks for a thirsty soul. 

Then comes lockdown, the entertainment industry freezes over and there is a realization that the glitter eyeshadow is starting to cake in the crow’s feet. On a whim, an application is written for the civil service. And, thank Satan, Salmaan discovers that there are now a whole set of boxes that hiring managers need to tick for their own careers and that a queer, drag-wearing person of colour conveniently helps fill them. Recruited as a policy adviser Salmaan is thrust into an alien world of zoom calls, status updates, pronoun confusion and corporate Karens. But once there, the boxes have been ticked,  there is no further desire, space or opportunity for Salmaan’s diverse experience to drive any change. Salmaan is left asking ‘So….why do you want me?’

Salmaan has dirty, chair-soaking humour. That queer sensibility that is likely to get you fired just after it got you miraculously hired. A few dark themes are hinted at, but not fully explored. This show prizes laughs over tears. But it does make its point with its giggles.  Hiring for diversity, but not embracing what that brings, leaves its recipients feeling like they are extras in someone else’s show. If you have to be a performer then, with the pandemic over, why not go back to being a fabulous star turn, Cybil?