I used to work at the Bowlers Club of Australia in the late 80s as a tray waitress so it was a surreal and intriguing experience to return there to see the performance of ATM, a new Australian play by Brendan Cowell. In the same auditorium where I had started an affair with one of the Chinese waitresses after she threw a butter knife at a cantankerous patron, I watched a strong ensemble cast perform a series of character sketches of human interaction in the context of a fiduciary machine.

Occasionally crass (quotes: You can drop a load of taddies in her because she’s had her tubes tied and Lindsay would love to suck his own cock if only he could reach), the piece is a kaleidoscopic journey through contemporary relationships and lifestyles. The scene where two people repeat wedding vows with declarations about their assets, promises to share their credit cards, and permission to make their first joint transaction, instead of the usual notions of love and honour, is insightful and gave the satire a savage edge.

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