Review: Beep Boop

A one man mime and physical comedy theatre show with a live digital soundscape, exploring society’s uneasy obsession with online life and the curious delusional pull away from an actually lonely reality.


Review: The Play That Goes Wrong

A play about amateurs no amateur company should even dare contemplate. There’s genius in the timing of all this. Outstanding.


Review: (Even) Hotter

A hilarious expose of what is hot, in your body, for your body and with other bodies.


Review: Infinita

Bittersweet slapstick comedy about the cycle of life


Review: bloominauschwitz

A riff on James Joyce’s Ulysses exploring Bloom’s Jewish heritage as he time travels through the 20th century.


Review: A Joke

A joyful leap into the unknown. These incredible performers take you on masterclass of japery.


Review: Bon Ami

A new comedy show about friendship, digital media, social isolation and loneliness.


Review: Tits in Space

A show with a wise sweetness at its core; a brightness to cast the growing shadows out there.


Review: Arr We There Yet?

A Madcap Mashup of Circus and Storytelling with a Little Tango for Extra Spice


Review: Pigspurt’s Daughter

Guardian obituary, 2008. ‘Ken Campbell was one of the most original and unclassifiable talents in British theatre of the past half-century.’ It just happens that his daughter Daisy is both that and far more. She’s one of the most cunning crafters of comedy and storytelling in the anti-business


Review: The Looker

A show about freedom. Funny, subversive, deeply philosophical - and beautiful.


Review: Ken

Terry Johnson’s two-hander might seem a low-key hommage but his script’s brilliant. It’s a re-affirmation of Campbell’s comic epic theatre, and inspires you to look out for what his daughter Daisy might be bringing to us at the Brighton Festival.


Review: The Messiah

Incestuous stars, passing of the ears, deep heat as a condition not an old muscle unguent. The dotty felicities of Patrick Barlow’s language in The Messiah directed by Rod Lewis are easily masked in the Norman Wisdom-like pratfalls of his hapless duo. Unless you add Mrs Flowers; and you should.