THarry Mould’s entertaining debut relies on a curious historical detail. As part of their commitment to listening to everyone without judgement, the Samaritans kept their lines open for what they called “telephone masturbators”. Between 1972 and 1987, any man who called the service and asked for Brenda knew he would find a woman willing to listen to his sexual fantasies.

The policy raises so many questions – about sex, danger, exploitation, acceptance and what constitutes a cry for help – which Mould weaves into a sparkling two-hander. It’s one that acknowledges the absurdity of the situation without downplaying the role of a life-saving charity.

Designer Natalie Fern brings out the Formica, dungarees and orange floor tiles as two women get ready for a night shift in the early 1970s. Anne (Fiona Bruce) is the designated Brenda, a long-serving volunteer who has learned to tolerate the inappropriate calls and is even concerned about a regular customer named Daniel. Tonight he hasn’t called at his usual time and she is alarmed.

New girl Karen (Charlotte Grayson) calls him a “punctual pervert.” At 18, she’s the Samaritans’ youngest volunteer and brimming with feminist zeal. Anne, she says, “plays an active role in the subjugation of women.” She’s fair and fiery, but beneath her youthful confidence lie her own limitations—as evidenced by her inexperienced handling of sensitive phone calls.

In Ben Occhipinti’s well-timed production, Mould makes no judgments about either. Instead, the playwright explores the women’s reasons for volunteering, their need to find a place where they belong and are wanted. The loneliness and isolation of their callers is not so far removed from their own. For all the sexual frankness, it’s a sweet comedy about acceptance and making us all feel human.