Maggie Thatcher. Has there been any other UK political figure of the 20th century – or of any century – who has been so reviled, and yet, by many, revered? Has there been a Prime Minister who has angered, disgusted and dismayed so many – yet become a beacon of light to others?

This paradox of Margaret Thatcher’s influence became a see-saw in the mind of Damian Barr during his formative years and emerged in the form of his memoir, Maggie and Me.

In his 2013 book, Barr writes of growing up in Newarthill in North Lanarkshire, the son of a steel miner who lost his job in Ravenscraig. He was a Catholic in a Protestant community and a gay schoolboy at a time of Clause 28 which shut down open conversations about homosexuality in schools.

His early life saw him endure physical abuse, the torment of growing up in a desperately poor household, his mental health impacted upon by societal judgement. Yet, Barr doesn’t simply condemn the woman responsible for turning steelworks into rust, or coal mines to dust.


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The writer, whose autobiography is set to emerge as a play, produced by the National Theatre of Scotland, explains that in his experience the polarised opinions of the late Prime Minister were far more nuanced than is normally accepted, particularly in Scotland.

“I love Maggie for telling me to do my homework,” he maintains. “I love Maggie for sweeping away the Seventies. I love Maggie for revolutionising this country. I love Maggie for voting to decriminalise homosexuality in 1967. I love Maggie for making a cult of the individual. I love Maggie for being the Iron Lady. I love Maggie for taking no sh**.”

Yet, his story is not a love letter to the former grocer’s daughter from Grantham. “I hate Maggie for Clause 28. I hate Maggie for taking my dad’s job away. I hate Maggie for taking my mum’s benefit away. I hate Maggie for stealing my stealing my school milk. I hate Maggie for making me poor.”

Barr’s ability to write in vivid colour of the shades of grey that Thatcher cast in the writer’s mind resulted in readers’ – and now audiences’ – opportunity to a least debate the politician’s intent.

Yet, although the award-winning writer is not a Conservative, he says he couldn’t not use her as the framing device for his own story.

“When I came to write, I found she was there all the time. I moved a lot; my family wasn’t a constant. Maggie was constant. She was everywhere. Maybe not always in my face, but always present on the television, in the papers. She was part of the culture in a way that I think no other politician could be again.”

He adds: “I found her conviction and certainty attractive as a child. She was blamed for everything in my community. When the last 50 pence would go out on the meter, it was always, “F****** Maggie.” Everyone hated her. And I slightly felt like everyone hated me. She was an outsider. And I felt like an outsider. I felt sorry for her. And that sympathy was the place from which to explore my relationship with her.”

The Herald: Damain Barr with James Ley. Picture: Gordon TerrisDamain Barr with James Ley. Picture: Gordon Terris (Image: free)

The writer developed a secret admiration for this woman in blue with the perfectly lacquered steel-wool hair and even stronger self-belief. And in analysing his relationship with Thatcher, Barr was able to better understand himself.

However, the theatre version of the story will take on a very different form from the book narrative. Co-writer James Ley explains. “This is going to be a classic piece of modern Scottish storytelling,” says Ley, writer of hit plays including Love Song to Lavender Menace, Wilf, and Ode to Joy. “There will be two acts, an interval, and a real blend of forms, with songs, a touch of agitprop, magic realism and naturalism – because the quality of Damian’s naturalistic dialogue, both in the book and in the new material he’s written, is wonderful.”

Whether Scots audiences will attach themselves to Damian Barr’s positive takes on the Iron Lady, to consider her big hair and shoulder pads can help balance up her presiding over a 15 per cent interest economy, or sowing the seeds of NHS privatisation, will be fascinating to discern. What’s inarguable is it will be hard not to be engrossed by the writer’s early life story, so difficult and complex the telling was as tough as Thatcher herself. “I knew I had to write about things that would be painful, I put off doing it for ages. But then eventually the fear of not doing it becomes greater than the fear of doing it.”

Maggie & Me, the Tron Theatre, Glasgow, May 7-11, then touring to Inverness, Perth, Cumbernauld, Dundee, and Edinburgh until June 15.

Don’t Miss:

Matthew Bourne’s magical dance production of Edward Scissorhands, the classic outsider in life, returns to the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, May 21 – 25.