Author: Stimpson

REVIEW: Derry Boys

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

Ambitious, raw, and deeply atmospheric

Niall McCarthy’s Derry Boys wastes no time setting its tone, biting, bleakly funny, and quietly volatile. Though the title invites comparisons to Derry Girls, this is no light-hearted sibling. Instead, McCarthy’s debut full-length play delivers a bruising, tightly wound exploration of fractured ideals, friendship, and the long, uneasy legacy of Northern Ireland’s past.

Directed with precision by Andy McLeod, the 90-minute, interval-free production maintains breathless momentum from start to finish. Scene transitions are swift, supported by sharp strobe lighting and Caitlin Abbott’s agile, minimalist set, concrete slabs that morph easily between playgrounds, protests, and years of uneasy memory. This relentless pace mirrors the psychological pressure cooker in which the characters exist.

We meet Mick (Matthew Blaney) and Paddy (Eoin Sweeney) as teenage boys in Derry, swaggering with adolescent bravado, fuelled by cowboy metaphors and a shared desire to push back against British authority. But even in these early scenes, McCarthy punctures the fantasy with reminders of real violence and social division: schools remain segregated by religion, slurs fly across playground lines, and the weight of history presses in on every joke.

Decades later, the boys reconnect in London, and their paths have dramatically diverged. Paddy, now a polished Cambridge law student, is climbing the ranks of respectability. Mick, still tethered to his revolutionary dreams, remains haunted by what was never resolved. Blaney and Sweeney are magnetic throughout, capturing both the youthful energy of the boys’ beginnings and the haunted weariness of their adult selves. Their chemistry anchors the play, making even its most heightened moments feel emotionally grounded.

Catherine Rees brings spark and intelligence to Aoife, the boys’ schoolmate and, later, Paddy’s wife. As a teenager, she’s a sharp-tongued foil to their posturing. As an adult, however, her role becomes disappointingly reduced, serving more as a narrative device than a fully realised presence—an unfortunate gap in a play otherwise rich in transformation.

What’s most compelling about Derry Boys isn’t its political stance, but its emotional undercurrents. McCarthy explores nationalism not as ideology but as something to cling to when everything else falls apart. Motifs of faith, betrayal, and moral reckoning recur throughout, leading to a final sequence that’s both understated and gutting.

Ambitious, raw, and deeply atmospheric, Derry Boys marks McCarthy as a writer of clear intent and vision. While it isn’t flawless, it’s full of potential, a gripping portrait of a generation caught between the ghosts of the past and the fragile promise of peace.

See Derry Boys at THEATRE503 until 7th June, ticket available here.

REVIEW: Beautiful World – Litter And Be Gay

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

A Bold, Buffoonish, and Brilliant Cabaret Debut 

As part of the Beautiful World cabaret series curated by theatre icon Janie Dee, Litter and Be Gay bursts onto the stage as the drag, clowning, and cabaret debut of Josephina Ortiz Lewis. It’s a dazzling, daring hour that grabs your attention from the moment Jo stumbles onstage – comically buried under a heap of shopping bags – and doesn’t let go until the final note.

This is cabaret as spectacle, satire, and statement. Jo’s performance is an unfiltered celebration of chaos, character, and conscience, with a narrative that dances deftly between clownish absurdity and sharp cultural critique. At its heart is a powerful commentary on the environmental damage of fast fashion and performative sustainability, delivered through incredible storytelling, magnetic comedy, and showstopping musical numbers.

Jo’s voice is genuinely remarkable – soaring with operatic flair one moment, then diving into gritty musical theatre or high-energy club anthems the next. Their rendition of “I Want More”, delivered right after a voiceover of Elon Musk claiming he could solve global poverty (only to buy Twitter instead), is both hilarious and devastating. The music, accompanied by live piano and guitar, grounds the show’s eclectic style and emotional journey.

Multimedia clips – animations, news footage, and curated sound bites – add layers of texture and context. But it’s Jo’s physicality and clowning that steal the show. Their costumes are a visual satire in themselves: buffoon-like ensembles that see them miming shooting birds from the sky, donning faux furs, then pulling on a giant T-shirt emblazoned with the word “RECYCLING” and a beaming smiley Earth. It’s equal parts ridiculous and razor-sharp, calling out the hypocrisy of feel-good activism and greenwashing with comic brilliance.

Despite its political charge, the show remains infectiously fun. Jo builds a fantastic rapport with the audience, drawing them into a world where drag, satire, and clown intersect with purpose. The result is a camp, clever hour of theatre that’s as entertaining as it is urgent.

Running in partnership with the London Wildlife Trust and paired with an art fundraiser supporting charities fighting clothing waste, Litter and Be Gay is more than a performance – it’s a wake-up call in sequins.

Josephina Ortiz Lewis doesn’t just make a debut – they make a statement. Don’t miss it.

Image Credit: Charlie Flint

REVIEW: Dear Annie, I Hate You

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A bold theatrical triumph that blends dark comedy, raw emotion and striking innovation.”

Dear Annie, I Hate You is a raw, funny, and deeply moving exploration of the chaos that follows when life veers off course. Sam Ipema delivers a blisteringly honest and fiercely entertaining performance that balances personal trauma, pitch black humour and moments of disarming tenderness. What begins as the story of a football loving tomboy takes a sudden and violent turn when a freak accident on the pitch introduces a new and unwelcome presence in Sam’s life: Annie, the aneurysm.

Sam’s world is turned upside down by the constant threat of Annie, a volatile and unpredictable force that throws her plans, her sense of freedom and her identity into chaos. Through inventive use of multimedia and sharp, personal storytelling, the play explores what happens when life takes an unexpected turn and how we struggle to maintain control when everything is falling apart.

The staging is visually captivating. Old television sets show flickering home videos and messages from Sam’s family and friends, while glowing neon tubes stretch across the space, giving everything a jittery, charged atmosphere. Ipema’s narration is casual and emotionally rich, blending humour with science and turning complex ideas about the brain into accessible, engaging moments of insight.

Sam grows up surrounded by loving but emotionally reserved parents and a brother with Down Syndrome who teaches her both gentleness and the painful lessons of social exclusion. The show finds its strength in moments like these, combining specific memories with universal truths. It educates as it entertains, showing how the brain reacts to physical and emotional threats, and how trauma reshapes our relationship with ourselves.

Then comes Annie. Played with wild energy by Eleanor House, she storms the stage as the personified aneurysm, dressed in chaotic costumes and delivering biting, theatrical monologues. Despite performing with a broken wrist, House is unstoppable. Her version of Annie is intrusive, flamboyant and unnerving, representing every dark impulse and coping mechanism Sam develops in the wake of her diagnosis.

The chemistry between Ipema and House is magnetic. Their interactions feel like a battle for control, filled with sharp humour and devastating honesty. As Sam faces the reality of living with a life threatening condition, she spirals into self destructive choices and emotional withdrawal. The television screens begin to echo society’s fascination with her illness, while her parents’ attempts to help fade into static.

Director James Meteyard handles this shifting world with care and clarity, guiding the play through its surreal moments and emotional intensity without ever losing its emotional core. A particularly powerful sequence after the operation, enhanced by Hugo Dodsworth’s lighting, jolts the audience with fear and vulnerability. And just when it seems like hope has disappeared, Ipema delivers a final speech that is quiet, reflective and beautifully moving.

Dear Annie I Hate You is a bold and original piece of theatre. It is funny, raw and emotionally intelligent. Sam Ipema’s voice is a vital one, telling a story that is both deeply personal and widely relatable. This is a show that will make you laugh, make you think and stay with you long after the lights go down. Dear Annie I Hate You plays until 1st June and tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Tending

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

A beautifully crafted hour of honest and heartfelt storytelling that gently breaks your heart and then puts it back together again.

Set in a stripped back NHS setting with nothing more than three chairs, a blind, and a whole lot of truth, Tending follows three nurses from different departments — palliative care, paediatrics, and A and E — as they share stories drawn from over seventy real life interviews with frontline NHS workers. But this is not a dry documentary. It is alive with warmth, wit, and real voices that deserve to be heard.

Under the thoughtful direction of John Livesey, Tending feels natural, intimate, and deeply connected. Livesey allows the performers to shine while keeping the storytelling grounded and true to its heart. The pacing is perfect, letting the emotional beats land while also giving space for moments of humour to breathe.

Ben Lynn, Anjelica Serra, and El Blackwood are an exceptional trio. Their chemistry is effortless, their storytelling is authentic, and their delivery is full of heart. Whether it is a moment of ridiculous dark humour about smells on the job or a quiet reflection on grief and loss, they carry it all with care. Each performer shines in their own way, but together they create something deeply intimate and grounded.

There is a surprising amount of laughter. Real, belly kind. As well as moments that bring the room to complete stillness. One monologue in particular had the audience holding its breath, and the final few lines left more than a few people wiping their eyes.

The design is refreshingly minimal and that is exactly what makes it work. No distractions, no clutter, just honest storytelling. The lighting and sound gently support the emotional shifts without ever demanding attention. It is all tastefully done.

This show is a love letter to the NHS, yes, but not the overly polished picture perfect version. This is the raw, funny, flawed, deeply human one. It speaks up for the people behind the uniforms and asks the big question. Who looks after the carers when they are the ones falling apart?

Tending is quietly powerful, incredibly moving, and full of soul. A standing ovation kind of show, told with care and courage. If you are lucky enough to catch it, do. You will leave a little more grateful, a little more thoughtful, and a lot more in love with the people who keep the system going.

Tending runs until 4th May at Riverside Studios.

REVIEW: Abby Wambaugh: The First 3 Minutes of 17 Shows

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

Abby’s ability to shift seamlessly between slapstick humor and raw, emotional storytelling is nothing short of genius.

Abby Wambaugh steps onto the Soho Theatre stage in a whirlwind of energy, ready to take us through The First 3 Minutes of 17 Shows. The concept is simple but bold: 17 sketches, each one lasting around three minutes, offering a snapshot of different comedic worlds. But from the very beginning, it’s clear this isn’t just a series of random bits. The vacuum cleaner impression that nearly claims the front row’s trousers is just the opening act in a much larger, more intricate performance. As the minutes tick by, the sketches veer from absurd to surreal, from the ridiculousness of “old-man parkour” to the wonderfully bizarre game of “Scare the Banana.” And every time the energy shifts, the audience is hooked, laughing and cringing in equal measure.

But this show isn’t just about the punchlines; it’s about the way Abby expertly pulls everything together. The quickfire sketches that seem disjointed at first? They’re all part of a bigger, deeply personal narrative that starts to emerge. At the heart of The First 3 Minutes is Wambaugh’s journey through gender identity and family. What begins as a series of zany, silly moments gradually unfold into something far more moving. Abby’s ability to shift seamlessly between slapstick humour and raw, emotional storytelling is nothing short of genius.

By the time we get to the final section, where Abby reads from a printed essay, there’s a noticeable shift in the room. The laughter fades into something quieter, more reflective, as they share the deeply personal story of why they started doing comedy. Themes of loss, grief, and recovery hang in the air, and yet, there’s no wallowing. Instead, Abby brings us into their world with vulnerability and warmth, making space for both laughter and tears in the same breath.

And yet, even as the show dips into more sombre territory, Abby’s humour remains razor-sharp. The tone is never self-indulgent or heavy-handed; instead, it’s a masterclass in how to blend comedy with catharsis. The crowd work here is spot-on — Abby knows how to keep the room engaged and connected, even as the emotional stakes get higher.

There’s also no shortage of audience participation, so if the thought of being pulled into the action makes you break into a cold sweat, consider this your warning. Abby has a knack for getting the crowd to take part in the absurdity, whether it’s by doing the worm on stage, singing along, or leaping over a stool in an old-man wig. It’s all part of the larger theme of stepping outside your comfort zone, something that Abby clearly practices themselves as they take their first full comedy show to the stage.

What really makes The First 3 Minutes of 17 Shows stand out, though, is Abby’s creativity. This is a show that feels like a sketch show, a solo stand-up set, and a one-person play all rolled into one. From the absurdity of ‘Scare the Banana’ to the poignancy of their personal reflections, it’s a performance that constantly surprises. You can’t quite predict where the show will go next, and that’s part of the magic.

Abby Wambaugh’s debut is an impressive feat — funny, heartfelt, and unexpectedly profound. It’s rare to see someone balance so many tones with such ease, and even rarer to see someone so clearly on the verge of something huge. If The First 3 Minutes is any indication, we’re in for a lot more from Abby in the future. You’ll leave the Soho Theatre with tears in your eyes and a smile on your face, already eager to see what they do next. Don’t miss it.

Credit Craig Sugden.

REVIEW: Cyrano

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

Bold, unapologetic, and powerful, this Cyrano is a must-see for anyone seeking a fresh, thought-provoking take on a timeless story.

Theatre often brings us epic, tragic tales of unrequited love, where characters are defined by their impossible desires. But what if one of the most famous tragic heroes was reimagined as a modern woman, filled with love but no interest in fitting into society’s expectations? Enter Virginia Gay’s Cyrano, a reimagining of Edmond Rostand’s classic that does much more than retell the familiar story. This version challenges perceptions of beauty and examines the complexities of expressing love in a world that judges based on appearance.

Gay’s portrayal of Cyrano breaks from tradition, offering a refreshing take on the character. Instead of focusing on the large nose, Cyrano’s “ugliness” becomes a stand-in for the insecurities and fear of rejection that many people feel in their pursuit of love. The emotional depth Gay brings to the role makes Cyrano’s vulnerability palpable, especially in her unspoken affection for her friend, Roxanne (played by Jessica Whitehurst). Whitehurst’s performance is full of warmth and authenticity, making Roxanne both lovable and tragically unaware of Cyrano’s feelings. In this version of the story, love is messy, awkward, and often left unsaid, rather than being a grand, idealised affair.

The classic moments of the story—like the balcony scene—are still present, but they take on fresh and unexpected twists. Roxanne’s initial attraction to the charming yet simple Yan (Joseph Evans) is driven more by physical attraction than genuine love, complicating Cyrano’s already tortured feelings. The romantic language is still there, but it’s not just about the words being spoken—it’s the subtle, unspoken connection between Cyrano and Yan that adds a layer of complexity to the scene. Their physical closeness and emotional tension make the moment both thrilling and heartbreaking.

Beyond the leads, the production also brings in a cast of quirky, delightful side characters. David Tarkenter’s eccentric portrayal of a character actor and Tanvi Virmani and Tessa Wong as Cyrano’s well-meaning but overbearing best friends provide comic relief that contrasts with the emotional intensity of the story. Their humor highlights Cyrano’s isolation, and the emotional weight of the play deepens as we witness her longing to be seen for who she truly is.

At its core, Cyrano is about the complexities of love, identity, and friendship. The tender relationship between Cyrano and Roxanne offers a raw, genuine vision of love that challenges the often idealised portrayals of romance. Gay’s reimagining offers a thoughtful commentary on heterosexual ideals, presenting a queer, emotionally resonant take on the classic that encourages us to rethink what it truly means to love and be loved. Ultimately, Gay’s Cyrano is a vibrant, unforgettable experience that invites us to reflect on our own desires to be seen and loved. It’s a production that will make you laugh, cry, and reconsider how we experience love and identity in today’s world. Bold, unapologetic, and powerful, this Cyrano is a must-see for anyone seeking a fresh, thought-provoking take on a timeless story.

REVIEW: Julia Masli

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

Wholesome, Healing, and Hilarious

In today’s world, we could all use an agony aunt—someone to listen to our struggles. But what if that agony aunt were an Estonian clown, dressed in a black Victorian frock, with a mannequin leg for an arm? Oh, and did I mention there’s a microphone attached to the leg? Enter Julia Masli, a force of nature who approaches you with a simple question: “Problem?”

There’s no escaping this clown as she embarks on a mission to solve not only the audience’s dilemmas but also the world’s. From money woes and boss problems to issues of intimacy or finding purpose, Julia dives deep, often with hilariously absurd results. The show is as interactive as it is ridiculous: socks are burned, a man is crowned the symbol of evil and then showered on stage, and one audience member even writes down their bank details in the hope that others will send them money.

But as wacky as the show gets, it also takes unexpected turns into deep, poignant territory. The mood shifts from uproarious joy to quiet, heartbreaking reflection. At one point, Julia addresses an audience member whose homeland is ravaged by war, creating a solemn moment of shared empathy. As Julia admits her own complicity in the problem, the audience collectively feels the weight of her question: “Why do we do this?” The responses—“Power,” “Because they’re idiots,” “Madness”—hang in the air, as the crowd grapples with the complexities of human conflict.

Julia Masli has crafted a show that is both playful and deeply moving, one that feels like a wild rollercoaster ride and a soul-searching journey at once. From the moment she steps onto the stage in her bicycle helmet, bathed in a small spotlight, she has us all captivated. The show begins with an eerie, hypnotic calm as she encourages the audience to mimic her slow, drawn-out “haaaaa”s. We were mesmerised.

But it’s not just the fun and absurdity that makes this show so special. There’s a rawness and a grit to it that leaves you thinking long after the final curtain. I found myself reflecting on my own problems in comparison to others, and thinking about how, in small ways, I too could help those around me. This show will make you laugh, cry, and, ultimately, put everything into perspective.

Julia Masli is doing an extraordinary job of healing the world, one absurd moment and heartfelt conversation at a time. I’m grateful to have been part of this experience.

REVIEW: Haha. Oh God

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

“Sharp, relatable and effortlessly funny.”

Lianna Holston, our protagonist, was recently rejected by ACE for a global visa to stay in the UK, with her comedic work assessed as part of a collective rather than her own. In response, she’s now back with her hour-long audition for England, Haha, Oh God, hoping for a positive reaction—though, if the audience isn’t impressed, she’ll be deported immediately.

The show kicks off with a hilarious story about suffering, which feels fitting given the circumstances. Lianna recalls visiting a tarot reader who asked if she’d “experienced a lot of suffering.” Hours later, she receives her visa rejection while sitting on the toilet, marking the beginning of her comedic turmoil.

Her storytelling is sharp, awkward, and engaging as she recounts life’s mishaps, like attending a massage interrupted by an attempted coup in the US Capitol or falling down the stairs and questioning, “Are we still doing this?” Her take on UPS losing her passport is equally funny: Ur Passport Soz!

Lianna also shares self-deprecating stories about her body, including her “long ass” and how she’s been compared to the “drowned Ophelia” at the Tate Britain. Though she doesn’t embrace outdated beauty standards, she admits her friends weren’t wrong. She even compares herself to a rat—present, but largely ignored by men in the same way they view her.

The animal section is a standout, where the audience suggests animals for Lianna to riff on. Her take on giraffes—“Where would a necklace go on that neck?”—is a particular highlight. Other animals get equally hilarious treatments, from the panther who “leaves your messages unread” to flamingos, whom Lianna deems “Gaaaaaay.” And when she talks about how her family got bunnies to avoid dealing with their emotions, the room erupts in laughter.

Lianna’s comedy is sharp, relatable, and effortlessly funny. From the moment she says, “Please let me stay,” the audience is with her. This is a talent the UK needs—don’t let her leave! 

REVIEW: Instant Luv-Noodles

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Rating: 3 out of 5.

Will splashing cash on Instant Luv-Noodles really solve your life and mend a lonely heart?

Instant Luv-Noodles is a work-in-progress new musical comedy centred around Naomi, (Marina Hata) a young, hopeful woman looking for friendship, romance and family acceptance. 

Struggling to keep a boyfriend (Joshua Gibbs) who wants her, a friend (Laura Kent) who gets her and a mother (Yiqian Shao) who is supportive. Naomi is stuck. With nowhere to turn, she finds herself buying online, this gives her comfort and thus begins her shopping addiction. The more she buys, the better she feels about her lonely life. 

After her boyfriend breaks up with her because she is “not the protagonist” in her own life, Naomi turns back to her internet shopping and comes across an add for “Instant Luv-Noodles”, a company that sells your instant relationship and promises to “solve all your problems”. We follow Naomi on her journey as she falls deep into an addiction with buying the perfect life. Yes, these instant relationships make her feel better in the moment, but with them lasting only 5 hours – she finds herself spending more money to keep the fantasy alive. 

The songs are simple, catchy and poppy with moments of humour sprinkled throughout. The ensemble work well together and show clear differences between their real-life characters compared to their upgraded, happier-than-ever, fantasy versions. In this rehearsed reading at The Other Palace we were shown a snippet from the beginning and the end of the piece to give an idea of the arc as a whole.

The concept is interesting and relatable. The idea came from Tsukuri Miyano (Writer) who was inspired by her Japanese background and the “host clubs” that reside in Japan. Women would go to these swanky clubs and be attended by attractive men, this came at a steep price and put many women into debt. Desperate to find a connection they would do anything to pay in order to feel loved. In comparison to this, dating apps like Tinder and Hinge now use money walls to offer better matches thus putting true love at a higher pay rate. How can we navigate our love lives when it comes at such a price? 

This charming piece has lots of potential! I’m looking forward to seeing where Instant Luv-Noodles pops up next and you should too. 

REVIEW: Lil Wenker: Bangtail

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

“BANGTAIL is a whirlwind of comedy, chaos, and heart.”

BANGTAIL is a high-energy, hilarious solo show by Lil Wenker that combines physical comedy, audience interaction, and a surprisingly deep exploration of identity and purpose. The performance follows Bangtail, a larger-than-life cowboy trying to live up to his title as the “Baddest Cowboy in Texas.” Along the way, he faces absurd challenges in the form of deserts, saloons, drunk women, and even a cattle-feed accounting firm in Minnesota. But the real question is: can Bangtail find his true purpose amidst all the chaos?

From the very start, Wenker pulls the audience into the action. She assigns roles to audience members, asking one to play Bangtail’s trusty steed, another to be one of his many lovers, and others to contribute sounds for the desert landscape. The audience is essential to the story, helping to create the world around Bangtail. Wenker’s quick wit and energy make this interaction feel fun and natural, rather than forced. If someone isn’t giving enough effort, she playfully calls them out, keeping the crowd engaged and on their toes.

Bangtail is a chaotic, lovable cowboy—gruff, exaggerated, and hilarious. Wenker’s physicality is the star here; every movement is exaggerated for comic effect, and she builds a world around Bangtail that’s both absurd and immersive. While the show is packed with laughs, Wenker’s ability to weave humor with moments of deeper reflection is what sets BANGTAIL apart. Bangtail’s rough-and-tumble attitude is matched by moments of vulnerability, especially when she interacts with a volunteer playing a “Drunk Lady” in a deliberately awkward yet hilarious scene. Wenker handles the scene with care, making sure the volunteer is comfortable while keeping the audience in stitches. This mix of comedy and empathy helps maintain a playful, yet thoughtful tone throughout.

Toward the end of the show, BANGTAIL takes a surprising turn into more existential territory. Bangtail faces his nemesis, and the comedy gives way to moments of introspection about identity, expectations, and finding one’s purpose. While this shift might feel jarring at first, it adds an unexpected layer of depth to the performance. The change in tone invites the audience to reflect on their own sense of purpose, while still maintaining the humor that makes the show so engaging.

BANGTAIL is a whirlwind of comedy, chaos, and heart. Wenker’s performance is fast, fresh, and full of surprises, with audience interaction that feels natural and rewarding. The show’s mix of slapstick humor and unexpected depth makes it a unique and memorable experience. Whether you’re laughing at Bangtail’s wild antics or reflecting on the deeper themes of the show, BANGTAIL is a truly entertaining and thought-provoking ride from start to finish.