It was a pretty punk move to wheel an electoral trojan horse onto the ballot paper and contest the 1996 Northern Ireland Forum elections knowing that two seats were within realistic reach. Amid a sea of majority male candidates and male politicians, the Northern Ireland Women’s Coalition gathered up supporters, firmed up policy positions, and stood candidates across multiple constituencies, coming out of the election count as the nineth largest party, qualifying to have two candidates elected from their regional list under the provision to make sure minor parties were represented at the talks.
The women were accused by leading politicians – multiple times – of living in “cuckoo-land”. That insult is picked up as the name of Kabosh’s new musical play
Cuckoo-Land which documents the forming and storming stages of the NI Women’s Coalition. Accompanied by the punchy sound and lyrics of punk songs written by Katie Richardson, playwright Vittoria Caffola stylishly introduces the audience to the some of the key players who reluctantly but assertively stepped into the political arena to make a difference.
Back in 2023, Owen McCafferty’s much-lauded play Agreement (with the script shaped by director Charlotte Westenra’s years of research) relegated the smaller parties in the 1998 talks process to a throwaway line. A few months later, The Man Who Swallowed A Dictionary was staged on the same Lyric stage, a companion piece that examined the life and legacy of loyalist and PUP leader David Ervine.
Finally, in 2026, in the month of the 30th anniversary of its creation, the NIWC story is being told. And it’s a story of energy, passion and commitment. Women who felt that they were invisible in the mainstream parties and did something about it.
The characters deployed demonstrate the class and ideological divisions amongst the group far better than the media I remember being glued to at the tie. They’re not all from south Belfast. They’re not all in violent agreement. But they do all want to see radical changes in representation, consultation and delivery.
Monica (McWilliams) is an academic and activist (played by Orla Gormley). Bronagh (Hinds) is the organised strategist (Orla Mullan). Pearl (Sager) is an east Belfast protestant who brings the voice of victims to the table and can quickly seal deals while outside with smokers from other parties (Caroline Curran). May (Blood) drives everything from behind the drumkit (Allison Harding) as one person sagely commented after the show. Christine Nelson and Maeve Byrne complete the cast playing Avila (Kilmurray) and Anne (McCann).
They’re a mere cross section of the 70+ women who got involved and stood for election. The full set of individuals are honoured, their names read out in a neat roll call and projected on the set’s backdrop. Later, Fergus Wachala-Kelly’s cartoon graphics will project dinosaurs over the wall full of clipboards, and make little clenched fists appear in the clipboards as if they were individual screens or windows.
Mark Tumelty’s lighting design includes fixtures found at concerts. They underscore Cheylene Murphy’s thumping bass line and Jackie Rainey’s electric guitar. Richardson’s lyrics riff off dinosaur metaphors, finding power, and “not hiding my crazy”. The melodies are catchy: the words resonate with the characters’ dialogue.
Soon a list of shared principles has been fashioned, including affordable childcare … stated with a knowing nod to the audience to indicate that the work started by the NIWC has yet to be finished. There is recurring pressure to take a stand on the border issue: not taking a public stand is viewed by some potential allies as taking a stand. Staying neutral shrank the size Coalition’s working group but maximised their pool of potential voters. Later, in the days and hours leading up to Good Friday 1998, the pressure to horse-trade priorities to secure some concrete results challenges their principles and dearly held policies.
It’s not all serious. There’s a fun sequence about Monica’s unorthodox sourcing of a loudhailer, and Christina Reid gets more than her share of witty retorts. Director Paula McFetridge brings politicians from other parties – mostly men – onto the stage as oversized grey heads held up on sticks. Their verbatim dialogue is disparaging of the NIWC members and their aims. What starts out as a jokey way of depicting David Trimble, Seamus Mallon, Peter Robinson, Iris Robinson (who labels the NIWC as “part of the pan-nationalist front”), Jeffrey Donaldson, David McNarry and David Ervine (who would only later begin to challenge misogyny) turns serious when an extended exchange from the Forum is replayed, word for word, attacking and demeaning the participation of the Coalition.
As the 100-minute interval-less performance reaches its climax, the appearance of Mo Mowlan ups the level emotion on the stage, and then an unforced comment about violence against women and girls – one of the Coalition’s original priorities to tackle – rips right through the historical revelry into today’s reality.
The marriage of music and dialogue through the medium of punk turns out to be apt. Cuckoo-Land goes where other playwrights have steered clear. It’s a riot to watch, realistic in its depiction of how politics and perfection are poor bedfellows, and the infectious enjoyment of the cast and crew seep out into the appreciative audience.
Cuckoo-Land continues in The MAC until Sunday 26 April.
Photo credit: Carrie Davenport
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