It may well be that, with a very skilled facilitator, David Bromley's one-man show has a place in a therapeutic working group discussing the nature of sociopathy and psychopathy. It purports to portray the making of a sociopathic, maybe psychopathic and possibly psychotic arsonist. It began, he says, in his school in north London where he liked to watch what people were doing. He also liked to bang desk-tops down on fellow pupils' heads, and he liked watching the shape of flames, like squirrels' tails. Kids were scared of him, but he didn't mean it like that. And he used to hear voices. And then he was told it was the end of his career in the school where, if you weren't down in the teacher's registration book, you might as well not be walking the earth.

The problem is that, in a theatre space, it is not persuasive psychologically, even psychiatrically or, most significantly, theatrically. While the text is dramatically uninvolving, the performance is passive - locked into an acceptance of a single questionable view of one person's view of the world, yet punctuated by an actor's view of whether he may or may not have the right accent. Again, it is neither persuasive nor involving.