Edinburgh Fringe 2026
Fool’s Gold
Agents of Chaos Theatre Company
Genre: New Writing, Theatre
Venue: theSpace@Surgeons Hall
Festival: Edinburgh Fringe
Low Down
Ten seconds in and Malcolm Webb’s Fool’s Gold has set the tone for a ridiculously silly hour of farce, surrealism, absurdism, several other “isms” and a whole load of comedic physical theatre set in the dead of night, when people can get up to no good without fear of interruption. Unless some idiot just happens to be training for their upcoming ultra marathon at three o’clock in the morning.
Review
“The weather in Swansea is very indifferent in September” floats in from off-stage as a shadowy figure, dressed head-to-toe in black, pauses momentarily from his digging as he seeks to unearth treasures buried deep in the soil. In a graveyard.
This opening ten seconds of Malcolm Webb’s Fool’s Gold sets the tone for a ridiculously silly hour of farce, surrealism, absurdism, several other “isms” and a whole load of comedic physical theatre set in the dead of night, when people can get up to no good without fear of interruption. Unless some idiot just happens to be training for their upcoming ultra marathon at three o’clock in the morning.
And, to inject a bit of realism into what turns out to be a bit of a “Marmite” experience for the audience, the show starts as the midnight hour is rapidly approaching and theSpaceUK’s Surgeons’ Hall is in winddown mode for the day.
David (the earthy, direct and convincingly paranoid Ben Whittle) is emphatically not a grave robber, he explains to the Hawaiian shirted individual that swans gracefully on-stage repeating his previous (clearly coded) statement, leaving David leaning on his shovel in bemusement.
“Covert excavator” is David’s preferred term for his nocturnal activities, recycling items that are no longer required by their original owners. “And it ain’t robbery neither as he ain’t nicking something from somebody – there’s no-one alive down there.” Clearly David has a detailed knowledge of the Theft Act 1968, in addition to his lexicon of descriptive expletives.
David’s new “Assistant” (the superbly ineffectual Malcolm Webb), has been sent by the (never seen) Tony (a big cheese in the covert excavating industry). And he’s rushed all the way up from Wiltshire at very short notice and just wants to get digging. With a seaside spade and a pair of yellow marigolds on as he doesn’t want his DNA scattered around to potentially incriminate him.
Now, if this all sounds a little bizarre, we’re in for a lot more twists and turns as the chaos compounds. Cue, shortly thereafter, entry of the most unconvincing apparition you’ve ever seen, white sheet topped off with a pair of dark shades. It’s Johnny (Edd Pullen), David’s erstwhile assistant, something of a cross between Trigger from Only Fools and Horses and Baldrick from Blackadder. And by the time our ultra marathon mate (the beautifully bemused Alec Osborne, who also directs) starts criss-crossing the stage, we’re collectively scratching our heads and wondering WTF is going on (to paraphrase one of David’s earthier remarks).
Somewhat surprisingly, this bizarrely crafted piece does actually have a plot, one with a rather unnerving denouement that will bring a knowing smile to lovers of Inside Number 9, Pemberton and Shearsmith’s off the wall comedy. It’s bursting with quality acting too, the chemistry between the lead protagonists clearly evident in the way that the banter flies between them, sounding spontaneous but clearly tightly scripted and meticulously rehearsed.
Pullen steals pretty much every conversation he’s a part of (and some of those he’s not) playing a man with an IQ that makes the aforementioned Trigger look like a Mastermind champion. Osborne’s vignette is also pitch perfect, as is his direction, the subtle homo-erotism and the blithering incompetence being highlights. And it’s a challenge to make farce look realistic, rather than just a bunch of idiots careering around out of control, but it’s a challenge that’s met here in spades (pardon the pun).
However, it’s fair to point out that this is something of a “Marmite” show – you’re either going to love it or you’re not. Some people clearly didn’t, taking the option of an early exit and cup of Horlicks (other comforting bedtime drinks are available) but my exit poll of those that made it through to the end suggests that Agents of Chaos Theatre are a young company well worth keeping an eye on.
Tight, wordy script (and that’s not an oxymoron), great delivery, spot on staging and an absurdity that was somehow still believable gives Fool’s Gold a lot to recommend it. And it really is true – “the weather in Swansea is very indifferent in September”.
