Stand up and be counted: Our Public House serves democracy with a pint and pork scratchings

Our public House at the Belgrade.

Our Public House, written by Barney Norris. Created and directed by Josephine Burton. Music and lyrics by Jonathan Walton. On at The Belgrade Theatre, Coventry, B2 Venue, from 4 – 6 June 2026.

Review by Amanda Burden

Long before Starbucks and Wetherspoons became entrenched in every city centre high street, the local boozer was something altogether more vital: a place to gather for a pint, a bit of a row, and the quiet national sport of over-sharing with strangers you will absolutely deny knowing in the morning. Or, if you were me, in the 90s, a place to dress like a one-woman nightclub emergency in a Lycra catsuit and platform heels, ingesting dangerous quantities of Sol, before tottering “uptown” (a term I used very loosely, given Coventry’s geography and my sense of direction) to a club that would definitely be shut down as a public health hazard were it to exist today. To add some context, this once caused my mother, upon catching a glimpse of my hot pants, eyeliner and deeply committed optimism, to deliver the immortal legend: “I don’t know what you think you look like, but I can tell you Coventry isn’t ready for it.” God bless the 90s fun pub. Anyway, I digress.

Because before that era of sticky floors and fluorescent camaraderie, there was the 18th-century coffee house: a place of pamphlets, politics and people arguing about the future of the nation without once checking their phone. It's this earlier idea of the pub, not just as a place to drink, but as a melting pot of public thought, that pulses through Dash Art's production of Our Public House at the Belgrade Theatre.

Set inside The Albion - a loaded name, evoking a merrie England/ St George/ village green bygone era - the play begins during a storm reflecting the turbulence of the outside political mood. Nicely done, play. Outside, the town is literally flooded and metaphorically isolated, while inside politics, grief, resentment and reluctant hope all rub shoulders at the bar alongside landlady Sanjana (Bharti Patel), daughter Anika (Chaya Gupta) and downtrodden regulars musician Scott (Fergus O'Donnell) and single mum Jo (Lauren Moakes). 

The premise is simple: a creaking community pub in an anonymous town where the previous election resulted in spoiled ballot papers and disenfranchise. Into this democratic withdrawal, stride Labour MP candidate Mary Parker (Gabriella Leon) and ambitious advisor Tom (Kit Esuruoso), stranded by the storm in a place where studied avoidance has become an act of political dissent.

What Our Public House does cleverly is treat the pub not as backdrop but as a model of democracy under strain: messy, uncomfortable, occasionally violent, and absolutely incapable of agreeing musical preferences. 

Landlady Sanjana, played with extraordinary presence by Bharti Patel, is holding together both the pub and emotional resilience of the entire town. She is weary but undefeated and completely and utterly believable. Someone give this woman an Oscar.

Around her circle the community deadbeats to whom life has dealt a losing hand, including Jo, the bruised, funny, savagely human single mother fighting to get her daughter back. Her torch song, built from lived narratives detailing the barriers facing abused women trying to rebuild their lives, lands with an impact which genuinely made me forget this was theatre and not factual documentary.

Particularly innovative is the show’s structure. Professional actors share the stage with a local community ensemble, and in the second half that line between cast and community blurs as local voices step forward to speak directly about their own concerns, from homeless pets to the decline of reading. It is ambitious, inclusive, and slightly spiky in execution, but the effect is punchy: to turn theatre into a temporary public square.

Watching this at the moment feels incredibly resonant, especially given the fact that a small, upcoming by-election in an unremarkable Northern constituency looks set to set the course of the country's future in two weeks' time.

If there is a criticism, it is that Our Public House occasionally wants to be both mirror and megaphone, and the functions can occasionally jostle. But perhaps that tension is intentional - real public life is not compartmentalised and tidy. It interrupts, contradicts itself, and sometimes shouts when you were just expecting a quiet pint after work.

What remains after the storm has done its worst and the bar lights have snapped off, is the sense of a public space restored to what it once was supposed to be: not just somewhere to drink, but somewhere to count and be counted in the community. And if this sounds like idyllic, daisy-waving wokeism, it's unsurprising, because in these polarised days, so does democracy. 

For tickets: https://www.belgrade.co.uk/events/our-public-house/