Munira: That’s haram you know. You can’t ignore a Muslim sister especially when she salaams you.
Hani: You didn’t even salaam me!
Munira: Assalamu’alaikum sis.
Hani: Wa alaikum assalam SIS.

‘Dugsi Dayz’ shines a light on the world of four British-Somali teenage girls held in Saturday detention at their Islamic school (Dugsi) in south-west London. A splendid play by Sabrina Ali, it was inspired by the 1985 movie ‘The Breakfast Club’. (Running at the Royal Court, London until 18 May, it certainly deserves a transfer.)

The girls’ Teacher (Macalin) has not turned up to invigilate, and so we watch them - shoes-off, bored and restless - as they bicker, debate and mess around to pass the time. Munira is the class joker - smart, eccentric and cheeky. Hani is cool, mysterious and aloof, quietly making notes in her journal. Yasmin, with bouncy curls popping out of her hijab, is obsessed with make-up, fashion and her phone. And finally there is Salma, the class swot in a black jilbab, diligently studying her copy of Islamic Reminders for Sisters, encouraging the others to reflect on their mistakes.

Salma: Seriously, Munira, music in a mosque?
Munira: It’s a podcast! What happened to assuming the best?

The girls speculate on what each of them has done to merit detention. They rummage amongst the confiscated items kept in the Macalin’s desk drawer.  They impersonate and poke fun at each other.

Yasmin: Dyslexia is not funny, Salma.
Munira: You’re not only mocking me, Salma, but a lot of great people. Einstein…Tom Cruise, Rosa Parks, Celine Dion.

We learn that, when they were younger, the girls’ mothers kept them in check by telling tales of fearsome long-eared Dhegodeer, who preys on badly behaved children; or the demonic Monkey Girl, who would come after them if they spent too much time listening to music, or if they threw the Quran on the floor.

Munira proposes that current teenage cohorts need new myths to help them navigate contemporary challenges.

Munira: I’ve realised, there’s like no scary Somali folk stories for the next generation of kids… Like for the younger kids… We need some hair raising, blood curdling …We need to basically pass on the torch.

Whilst conservative Salma thinks that youngsters should be warned about lack of respect, wearing excessive make-up and spending too much time on TikTok, the other girls have different perils in mind.

Yasmin: I say we should warn kids about things we wish we knew when we were younger.

Yasmin invents a story about an intelligent, beautiful, high-achieving girl who falls for a young man with ‘dazzling bling, a charming smile and spell-binding cologne.' The chap turns out to be a hopeless good-for-nothing.

Yasmin: She spent most of her time studying, so she didn’t have any experience dating or spotting red flags…The sweet musk he carried was gone and was replaced by the smell of old socks and BO.

Munira’s yarn features a spirited, independent teenager, not unlike herself. One night, when waiting at a bus stop, she is attacked by two sharp-toothed vampire aunties in long flowing jilbabs, who ‘sweep across the floor with a natural grace and swiftness, you would think they were on hoverboards.’

Munira: Don’t trust Somali aunties, cause they’re vampires who want to suck the life and soul out of you…I’m warning the girls of the next generation to run for their life if they ever see them blood-sucking vampires.

‘Dugsi Dayz’ is a tender, insightful, funny play, celebrating a community whose perspective is rarely seen; whose voice is seldom heard.

I was quite taken with its suggestion that different times require different tales.

I entered the world of work in the late 1980s, when corporate folk lore commended long hours, shareholder capitalism, winning-at-all cost  and a dog-eat-dog mentality. It was a fairly aggressive, muscular culture.

Surely young people joining today’s workplace need to hear about a new kind of heroism: stories of interdependence and the triple bottom line; of creativity and collaboration; of emotional intelligence and resilience.

By the end of the play, the four characters have grown closer, through shared laughter and storytelling. They are released to go their separate ways.

Salma: So wait, what? Does this mean we’re like friends now?
Munira: This isn’t The Breakfast Club, Salma. We’ll see you next Saturday in Dugsi.

'I wish that I knew what I know now,
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now,
When I was stronger.’

The Faces, ‘Ooh La La’ (R Lane / R Wood)

No. 469