The Swastika Party is not a political play. It is a story of relationships and how they survive under pressure. It is a play about the power of symbols and the symbolic nature of friendships.

A key theme of the play is the freedom experienced by many women during the war. Many social norms were relaxed and redefined. The seeds of later freedoms in the fifties and sixties were sewn during this time. It has been so interesting to explore the changes in fashion during this time. Women assumed many positions of responsibility and expertise on the Home Front that, under normal circumstances would be denied them.

A major theme of The Swastika Party, that has relevance for people today, is the power of symbols. Seemingly innocuously symbols, icons and logos can exert a powerful influence on us, both positive and negative. The symbol of the Swastika is, even today, reviled in most places. The play explores the impact of such a symbol on the lives of four women. How do they respond to its invasion into their home? Why does it affect them so? How does such a symbol affect us today? How does it affect you?

The play explores identity. How do we see ourselves and how do symbols and icons change our perception of ourselves and of each other? Each of the characters reflects on their life, and how they see each other during the play. The four share an identity as friends which comes under pressure during The Swastika Party.

“I don’t like it Sarah. Me mum wouldn’t either. I was wandering through Berkeley Square. A fire engine was there and two trees had caught alight from a nearby fire in a house. But it was nearly out as I walked by. The square looked beautiful in the remains of the golden light. The fireglow was like an orange sunset over Shoeberry Ness. A little girl was crying and her mum picked her up and hurried away with her and then I saw why.

“Lying on the grass right near the tree was someone who’d died in the blaze. She was laid out ‘til an ambulance arrived. She couldn’t have been more than thirty. But it was all so quiet, so bloomin’ calm. No one was saying a word. The fireman were silent as they hosed the last of the flames. And passers-by, like me, we was just watching silently like we were in the picture house on the Mile End Road watching a thirties weepie. It was the calm.

“And as soon as one of the firemen laid a blanket over the poor dead woman, it was like it went even quieter. Quiet as the grave they say. I know this sounds potty, Sarah. But all that scary, creepy-like quiet. Then I realised it. It was coming from that dead woman under that red blanket. It was like her death had crept over all of us, shutting up the whole Square; cold and quiet like the grave. I never experienced nuffink like that before. And I hope I never do again. Oh, blimey, can you put something on the gramophone. Something lively. Or let’s have a sing song. I feel like I wanna scream and shout.”
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“She said call me Leah. So I said: “Hello Leah, call me Mary.” And we drank this coffee. I nearly choked on it, it was so horribly strong. While we were drinking, quiet as anything, as if she was remarking on the weather, or the price of tea she said: “They’re dead. All of them.” “You don’t know that,” I replied. Then she gave me a withering look and grabbed my hand – the coffee spilled everywhere. She grabbed my hand and held it to her heart. “You think I don’t know? All of them!” she said. “All of them.” Then we cleared up and sat silently for a while. “
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