Category: Comedy

REVIEW: Dick Whittington

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

A riotous Britpop makeover that proves panto can be both nostalgic and brilliantly new.

The Oxford Playhouse has long been known for delivering lively, crowd-pleasing pantomimes, but this year’s Dick Whittington takes that expectation and spins it in an energising new direction. Rather than relying on the usual grab-bag of chart-toppers from the past twelve months, the creative team opts for an inspired soundtrack of 90s Britpop classics, a decision that instantly sets this production apart from the plethora of pantos I’ve seen before. The result? A show that not only delights younger audiences but gives parents and older theatre-goers a nostalgic reason to join in with the interactive sections, singing along with clear joy.

Director Toby Hulse leads this reinvention with confidence, reworking the story to reflect modern sensibilities without losing the warm heart of traditional panto. One of the most refreshing choices was casting Daisy Ann Fletcher as a female Dick Whittington, affectionately known as Dot, bringing a contemporary energy and relatability to the role. Equally notable was the inspired casting of Lucy Frederick as the Dame, a role almost always played by a man. Frederick’s comedic timing was nothing short of genius. Her playful engagement with the audience, especially one very bemused yet willing participant, produced some of the night’s biggest laughs and anchored the show with a charismatic presence that truly “sold the story.”

Another standout was Robin Hemmings, returning for his third consecutive year at the Oxford Playhouse. His performance as Liam Rattagher was a highlight, leaning fully into the Liam Gallagher persona with pitch-perfect gestures, swagger, and iconic Mancunian attitude. It was a brilliant creative touch that resonated across generations, proving that even the villains can be crowd-pleasers. The clever incorporation of local jokes, from congestion charge references to nods at Gloucester Green Market, further grounded the production in the Oxford community and drew knowing laughs throughout.

Visually, the show bursts with creativity. The costumes are vibrant and characterful, with Liam’s signature parka standing out as both hilarious and weirdly stylish. His entrance on a makeshift motorbike crafted from a VOI scooter was an inspired moment of low-budget brilliance, perfectly in tune with the playful irreverence of panto. The staging also leaned into sensory fun: bubbles, foam, and high-energy choreography filled the space with excitement, and children were especially enthralled.

Before the curtain even rose, the atmosphere was lifted by a spirited mini-performance from Fintan Hayeck, Macy Dermody-Blythe, and Stefanos Petri, who warmed up the audience and got everyone, adults included, on their feet. This early energy carried through the whole show, contributing to the sense of shared joy that makes panto such a uniquely communal experience.

Despite its fresh musical choices and contemporary framing, the production remains rooted in the traditional feel-good heart of pantomime. Its ultimate message, the importance of individuality, shines through clearly and warmly, tying the whole experience together with sincerity.

Dick Whittington at the Oxford Playhouse is a clever, heartfelt, and thoroughly entertaining reimagining of a classic story. With its smart Britpop twist, fantastic performances, and spirit of inclusive fun, it’s a riotous treat for all ages.

REVIEW: Ian Smith: Foot Spa Half Empty

Published on by Ben BreenLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

An askance look at life’s bewildering frustrations, and male fertility

It’s a cliché to describe every Northern comic as “down-to-Earth”. But Ian Smith’s hilarious bafflement at the trappings of everyday life – pub beer gardens, supermarket shopping, what3words – is nothing if not relatable. His easy rapport and distinct brand of exasperation make Foot Spa Half Empty a crowd-pleaser with a warm heart. Brimming with surreal digressions, Smith delivers an accomplished, tightly-structured set full of sharp jokes and cheeky asides.

Since critically-acclaimed Crushing, Smith has been on the up – he’s got elderflower cordial in the cupboard, made his debut on Have I Got News For You, and even has his own Wikipedia page. He jokes that, as a comic finding humour in stressful life moments, he worried he’d have nothing left to write about. But Smith’s fruitless attempts to become a father land him in a windowless capsule giving a sperm sample, providing the show’s narrative spine. There’s a level of bravery to discussing male fertility issues onstage, but Smith’s comic instinct cuts straight to the laughs.

Much of Foot Spa Half Empty covers familiar territory – becoming middle class, getting older, embarrassing medical tests – yet Smith consistently uncovers the surreal ridiculousness beneath. It’s a polished, multi-layered performance rich with recurring gags, and a handful of unexpected props inject a welcome unpredictability. His relaxed rapport with the audience gives the show a bespoke quality: a groan from the stalls provides extra content peppered throughout the show, and an accidentally upended glass of water ends up funnier than many comics’ written routines.

Smith is at his best railing hyperbolically against the absurdities of everyday life. Highlights include a seagull flying around armed with a steak knife, and a primary school lesson about identifying fruit using the sense of touch. Some more avant-garde elements – a flashforward is trailed at the show’s outset, and the audience is left to anticipate some “product placement” – add a sense of dramatic tension. A picture frame facing into the wall becomes a sight-gag Chekhov’s gun.

Whilst a few moments don’t quite land, Smith’s likeability and joke-packed script ensure the laughs quickly return. Foot Spa Half Empty’s infertility thread keeps the show moving along, and by normalising a surprisingly common problem (1 in 12 men, apparently) smuggles in a warm message. Fundamentally, though, it’s simply a joy to see an accomplished performer at the top of his game. Worth it for the knife-wielding seagull alone.

Foot Spa Half Empty is on national tour from February-June 2026, and tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Possum Trot

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Possum Trot is a small story told with sincerity, humour, and real heart.”

There’s something about the Tabard Theatre that always makes me glad to slip into someone else’s story for a while. The space is compact enough that you can hear the actors breathe almost but somehow it always manages to hold far more than seems architecturally possible. Possum Trot takes full advantage of that, turning the stage into a diner that feels lived-in, tired, affectionate, and strangely comforting.

Kathy Rucker’s one-act play is a gentle, feel-good piece, not in a sugary way, but in that warm, quietly truthful way that makes you recognise people we have all  met at some point in our lives, towns we have passed through, and choices most of us would have struggled with ourselves.  Possum Trot is a story about the tension between tradition and change, told with humour, affection, and the kind of emotional honesty you only find in places where everyone knows each other’s business.

Somewhere in the middle of it all sits Maxine. Sarah Berger plays her with the particular grace of someone who has been the glue holding everyone together for far too long. She is the pulse of the diner, the centre of gravity for every character who wanders through the door, and the person around whom the whole emotional arc revolves. I think the triumph of the play comes from watching her shift slowly, but bravely from resignation to possibility, from stay to leaving. 

The design team managed to turn the Tabard’s intimacy into an advantage. The diner looked beautifully patched together. The surfaces are a bit worn, colours a little faded, as though every bit of the place has absorbed decades of stories. My favourite bit of trickery was the creation of the “basement” during the storm. With nothing more than lanterns and sound, the space seemed to drop beneath our feet. It felt as if we were suddenly invited into a secret room that shouldn’t possibly exist within a theatre this small.

The humour throughout the play is unpretentious. One moment that had the whole audience laughing involved the neighbour’s cow crashing onto the roof, an image that felt part biblical omen, part surreal farmyard version of Dorothy’s house landing in Oz. It’s absurd, sure, but also perfectly in tune with the way this play treats misfortune: with a shrug, a sigh, and a joke.

“Tradition is peer pressure from the dead,” someone says, and the line makes the audience laugh again. But the more the night goes on, the more that sentence becomes something like the play’s quiet motif. There is love in tradition, but there’s also fear and preassure.  There is community, but also confinement. And every character stands somewhere on that border between staying put and breaking free.

The ensemble around Berger supports this theme with a light, natural chemistry, each character tugging gently between past and future, routine and reinvention. Together they create a town that feels stuck in the past yet full of people desperate, in their own ways, to move.

By the end, I felt uplifted. Possum Trot is a small story told with sincerity, humour, and real heart. It proves once again that the Tabard is one of London’s loveliest spaces for discovering intimate theatre that leaves you thinking long after you’ve stepped back into the world outside. 

REVIEW: Gumshoe

Published on by Victoria AshfordLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A one of a kind whodunnit comedy

This sell-out Edinburgh show comes to Soho for a weekend in this comedic whodunnit show. 

New York, 1940’s, Gumshoe is on his last case-his most deadly one yet. In solving the  case, he is reunited with an old lover and an old friend. The details of the case are in the  hands of the audience allowing the fourth wall to be broken and almost creating a living  piece of work, in some respects. And a Friday night in Soho, anything can happen.  

Other characters are a voiceover, with minimal props and two chairs for the set used as a  car and part of a museum display set up for an audience member to steal a gem. The use of sound effects was often used for comedic value and several songs with police in the title or about them, brings this show to life.  

This performance is heavy on the audience participation, which I am starting to enjoy,  though I’m not sure how I’d feel about being dragged up on stage (which is what happened and the audience member became the client in need of Gumshoes expertise). What I can imagine this does, is keep the material fresh which is interesting as it is quite reactive to how an audience is on the night and sets it apart from other detective and comedy shows. This approach also showcases how funny the performer is and with audience participation, there inevitably was a moment of borderline heckling which the performer dealt with in a humorous manner, incorporating it into the show.  

Full of puns, jokes that didn’t land as expected and audience engagement (giving the front row members water guns was a brave move) I spent pretty much the entire show in stitches. It was clear that the performer has dabbled in improv which works for this style of performance as something heavily scripted would not have the same appeal and in breaking the fourth wall, it offers a different experience of a show.  

I can’t fault this show, I was impressed with the format and amazed at the talent of the  performer and the many roles his sister plays in bringing the show to the stage. It did feel like it dipped a little in the middle but that could have just been me after a long week. And after a long week, an hour of silliness and laughter was needed. If you manage to come across another performance of this, go, it really is one of a kind.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Theo Hristov

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Working Class Hero is an absurdist satire in which two actors put on some silly wigs (and accents) and take us on a high-speed romp through the British class system. We sat down with Theo Hristov to discuss their upcoming production. Tickets are available here.

What sparked Working Class Hero—was there a specific moment as a Bulgarian  migrant in the UK arts scene that made you think, “this has to be a play”?  It was more the cumulative effect of being seen for a certain type of role that did not reflect any  reality I had lived. Having always identified as working class, when I started acting, it quickly  dawned on me that working class as an identity marker in the UK may not hold enough space for  me because I’m also Bulgarian and my accent – the bearer of my national, cultural and ethnic  identity – was being used to put me in a box. I was either one or the other and I couldn’t possibly be  both.  

I knew it was something I would have to address at some point if for no-one else but myself. And  then Emma Corrin broke the internet when they said they wanted to do a “gritty” independent film  “up North” with “an outrageous accent” and “red hair” and suddenly I had my story. What if a  white privately-educated POSH ACTOR frustrated by being pigeonholed decides he wants to do  something different. And the thing is Emma Corrin is a great actor and I’ll watch them do anything.  That’s the point of acting. It’s an act of sublime empathy to put yourself in somebody else’s shoes.  To see the world how they see it. But it is a problem when only people from a specific background  get that opportunity. Working class actors rarely do. As for migrants – just forget about it.  

The show mixes sketch comedy, physical theatre, and multimedia—what does  absurdism let you say about class and migration that straight realism can’t?  I personally find constraints really helpful and in this case they opened up interesting new avenues to  address big topics such as class and migration through humour.  

The form dictated the story. Subsequently we had two short R&Ds (and this is a fringe show with no  funding so a big shoutout to places like Theatre Deli, Theatre Peckham and Southwark Playhouse  for giving us the physical space to experiment) which really helped in clarifying the vision of how we  wanted to tell this story. 

It could have been more realistic. But it just never felt like that’s what the show needed. If anything,  it needed me to lean into my silly, slightly off-kilter, darkly comedic side to make those ideas really  fly. Satire just allows for so much more. It lends itself to critiquing power structures and systems with  the intention to point a way forward.  

We also understood that by showing certain stereotypes we may be inadvertently introducing them  to some people for the first time. And we didn’t want to do that. So it seemed like the only  appropriate way to deal with those was to mock them.  

Your line “You’re not working class. You’re Bulgarian.” cuts to identity and  gatekeeping—how do you navigate British class labels when they’re used to exclude  migrants?  

I went to state-funded non fee-paying schools and qualified for free school meals. My parents  worked multiple jobs, and the work was always shiftwork. We didn’t have nannies. We couldn’t  afford a summer holiday every year. We borrowed books from the library. I would wear my big  sister’s clothes when she grew out of them.  

Money has always been a factor for me growing up but reducing something like class to just  financial means is just plain wrong. I didn’t grow up here. I don’t have the same cultural capital, the  same references. So I couldn’t possibly be part of this community, could I?  

That’s the story the media in this country tells us through the images it feeds us. Even though a large  part of working class people in the UK have always been migrants, I only saw working class people  on screen as a monolith. They were usually pitted against migrants who they had a lot more in  common with but were told they didn’t. They were told we were after their jobs. And sadly that’s the  narrative that spills out into real life and has real consequences.  

The one thing I was unprepared for when starting out was how big of a part accent still plays on  class distinctions in the UK. And what assumptions people make based on your accent. And when it 

comes to somebody who doesn’t have a native accent – you’re suddenly in yet another category. And  how can we solve this problem of representation if we only have these big boxes for all of us?  That’s what we wanted to address with the show – make those boxes more pliable so they reflect the  wide variety of native and migrant backgrounds and experiences making up the mosaic of working  class identity in this country.  

POSH ACTOR and Stephan’s friendship buckles under typecasting and bias—how  did you and Oscar Nicholson build that dynamic, and what truths were most  uncomfortable to stage?  

Oscar was in my year at drama school. Looking back we were very lucky as our cohort became very  close-knit very quickly and we felt safe to try things and fail. Which is what every good acting  training course should aim for. Oscar and I were also in a production of Romeo & Juliet and we built  a very good dynamic there working together which I felt could translate well into this play.  We had an early draft where the character of POSH ACTOR was described as “a stronger, posher,  better version” of Stephan and I thought we could really lean into that idea of what if we have a  similar starting point but due to forces outside our control the paths we take are vastly dissimilar.  Forces like accent, class, and background. POSH ACTOR intrinsically has more value in this  industry which is largely made by middle-class people for middle-class audiences. And of course  that’s a fallacy because an accent also indicates a specific background, social skills, and level of  education and contacts that Stephan just doesn’t have.  

What’s come across most often in rehearsals is the level of direct competition these two people are  put into which brings out the worst in both and leads to some truly horrific moments of conflict.  There’s a lot of ego involved. They don’t listen to what the other needs. These moments only work  when you really trust your fellow actors and they allow you to go to those places that are dark and  ugly, to be truly vulnerable. And Oscar and I have that in spades. Which will hopefully also make  the moments of tenderness and kindness all the more powerful. 

VOILA! gave the piece its scratch debut—what changed between 2024 and this full  outing at Barons Court Theatre under Blanka Szentandrássy’s direction? 

We had a great fifteen minutes which utilised satire well to set up the rules of the game and situate  the audience in the heightened world of the play but the rest of the play didn’t live up to that start. I  felt like I was preaching to the choir and that’s not something I’d want to see myself.  We needed our development time to really explore what the story we wanted to tell was but even  more importantly – how we wanted to tell it. We we were a lot more interested in making an  entertaining show which leant into comedy and allowed us to not spell things out for the audience.  To show, not tell.  

Blanka came aboard for one of the R&Ds and since her practice is very movement-based, she really  helped shape the physical language of the play and how we can address some of the themes we talk  about non-verbally.  

Humour as resistance: what do you want audiences to be laughing at on the night— and still thinking about on the way home?  

Humour to me is the easiest way to make the audience recognise something, get them on board, and  then make them complicit so they themselves need to search for a solution. It also allowed us to take  bold swings in how we approach big identity labels like working class, posh, and migrant.  We want the audience to laugh at the absurdity of the plot twists, where we take the story and the  caricatures we’ve turned most of the characters into. Everything in the play is heightened and the  tone is very specific so we just hope people will resonate. At the same time, at the centre of the play  we have Stephan – the real migrant working class hero who should be the audience’s eyes and ears  through which they experience the story. And by this act of empathy we want to show that behind  the boxes, there is always a real human being. Recently seeing another Bulgarian actor Julian Kostov in Beth Steel’s Till The Stars Come Down playing an actual three-dimensional character who also happens to be a first-generation immigrant  was really impactful for me but that’s so rare. Theatre even more than film or telly. I can count on  one hand the amount of times I’ve seen someone with a foreign accent on stage in a subsidised  theatre. If first-generation immigrants who don’t have a native accent make up around forty percent  of what London looks like, why do our stages not represent that?

FEATURE: The Imposter Generation with Imposter Imposter Syndrome

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As he prepares to bring his new darkly funny and deeply personal play Old Fat F**k Up to Riverside Studios, writer and performer Olly Hawes reflects on what it means to stumble into middle age still waiting to feel like a proper grown-up. Blending stand-up, confession and theatre, the show follows an exhausted father buckling under financial and emotional pressure, haunted by the version of manhood he thought he’d grow into. In this piece, Hawes considers how a generation raised to believe adulthood would bring certainty instead finds itself improvising, faking it, and trying to pass for the real thing.

I use the phrase ‘grown up’ a lot. 

‘Oh my god that’s so grown up’, ‘You’re acting like such a grown up’, ‘That’s the most grown up thing I’ve seen anyone do in ages’.

I’m 40 later this year. I have a mortgage, I have a wife, I have kids, I even have a car… and yet, I really don’t feel like a grown up – or rather, to add a vital stipulation – I do feel like a grown up, I just don’t feel how I thought I would feel as a grown up when I wasn’t a grown up. To put it more simply: my parents are proper grown ups, and they always have been; I am not a proper grown up, and I never will be.

I described myself as ‘middle aged’ the other day. My friend (who is three months younger than me) guffawed. When I pointed out that, numerically speaking, we are undoubtedly middle aged, she went into a long explanation that amounted to: the numbers say one thing, the feeling inside me says another.

I think we all know why this is. We are part of the first generation who – collectively speaking – will earn less than their parents. If you’re lucky enough to have a mortgage, you almost certainly got it because you got help from your parents – and if you don’t have a mortgage, it’s probably because you didn’t.

And so here we are – here I am: a lifelong customer of the bank of mum and dad, forever grateful for the generosity, forever frustrated to never be able to escape, wretchedly sad that I won’t be able to do the same for my kids. Guilty around my friends who don’t have the same support, and yet, somehow, financially emasculated – a financial incel, if you will. 

So that’s the diagnosis – it’s one we’re all familiar with, but what about the consequences of the diagnosis? It’s a question that sits at the heart of my new show, Old Fat F**k Up.

Let me paint a picture.

The hero of the story – if we can call him that – is yearning for that stage of life that most of us know is probably never going to come: when life starts to feel secure, sorted – when you start to feel like a proper grown up. He’s dependent on his parents, on his partner, on the fantasy of adulthood that we were sold as kids. Every reminder that it’s never going to happen curdles into befuddlement, frustration and, ultimately, shame. The financial mess spawns an existential one         e wants (at least, he thinks he wants) to feel like a grown-up, but he can’t. 

And if he isn’t a proper grown up, then that means he’s not a proper man. He grew up being shown that being a man meant being capable, self-sufficient, in control, but he’s not really any of these things… so what’s left? The gap between the man he thought he’d become and the man he actually is. 

And if he isn’t a proper grown up, and he isn’t a proper man, then he’s not a proper parent, either. Trying to raise kids while feeling half-raised yourself is a special kind of madness. The exhaustion, the guilt, the pressure to be both gentle and firm, strong and soft, patient and productive borders on impossible. 

And so, when the delusion finally cracks, he escapes into new fantasies of sexual conquests, traditional masculine heroism, and the very modern masculine manosphere shaped desires of ostentatious wealth and swagger. Mirages that are the inevitable consequence of a culture that sells self-reinvention to people who can’t even piece together stability. 

These are, more or less, the beats of the story of my new show, Old Fat F**k Up. Part confession, part stand-up, part breakdown – a darkly funny, uncomfortable hour and a bit that slides between sincerity and absurdity. By the end, the joke – and the tragedy – is that it’s not just his story. It’s ours. Because how can a generation that never properly grows up really expect to raise anyone else? How can we pass on the tools to be resilient, confident, or content if the best we can do is impersonate those qualities, to impersonate being proper grown ups. We’re going to have to find a way – let’s fake it till we make it!

Old Fat F**k will be at Riverside Studios over 25 performances from 5th November – 20th December. Ticket link HERE.

REVIEW: Urooj Ashfaq: How to be a Baddie

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

“A warm, bubbly Urooj lends us cleverly built gags in exploring the realities of an edgy female Indian comedian.”

Urooj Ashfaq’s How to Be a Baddie was funny, conversational and cosy. Both the set up, Urooj’s confidence and storytelling invited us into the world of being a female Indian comedian, as she strives to counter an unnamed reviewers suggestion that she wasn’t quite as edgy as she may be deemed in India. 

Through three key anecdotes: Astrology, Erotica and Hemorrhoids, Urooj constructs a rather personal exploration of her inner and outer experiences. She opens in warming us to her travels from India, drawing on key differences in patriarchal and cultural elements, which were seen to in fact overlap, and create a homogeneous and safe environment for her audience. Her worldbuilding was hilarious at times, specifically flowing excellently as she moved from reading erotica, to fantasying and writing a Wattpad entry in which she is sold to One Direction. Her diversity in accents, namely Harry Styles British voice to an Arabic take on Zayn Malik, were very remarkable. 

I also commend her unwillingness to make all her gags palatable for a Western audience, where some lines were in Hindi and the translations were seen (and pointed out) to not quite land. Where Urooj established this warming environment, the successful anticipation of the jokes seemed to land better than the climax. At times, the audience were seen to be left a little lost, but as Urooj says, she just likes talking, so perhaps a structurelessness is what suits her best, and her confidence in facing an audience is all she needs. 

Urooj certainly knows how to read a room, and her discussions of topics saw to reach every audience member. In particular, her conversations on taboos, namely porn, was met with silence when the audience were asked if they ever find themselves engaging in rather dark pornography. Urooj cleverly utilized these reactions by pointing fun at us -acknowledging the thoughts of a silent room without the physical affirmation of us nodding along- and now this made us laugh. 

I would have liked to seen Urooj push to round her three sections to a tight close, and there were moments in which Urooj admits she has missed her cue, or blurted out a line which hadn’t been set up. Though the premise and delivery of the show as an entirety felt a little disjointed, her bubbly, confident presence made for an evening of warm laughter in Soho’s downstairs suite and offered a window into the realities of being a female Indian comedian.

Urooj Ashfaq: How to be a Baddie performs at Soho Theatre until 15th November. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Ladies Who Improv

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LADIES WHO IMPROV is a female Manchester based troupe who focus on the funny. We sat down with the group to discuss their upcoming performance.

How did you go from meeting in an improv class to becoming a fully-fledged troupe?

We did a showcase at the end of the improv course and after we left the stage we realised just how much we enjoyed improvising with one another. We chatted afterwards and really got to know each other. With two of our players being Lithuanian and American we discussed our comedic inspirations and humours and learnt a lot about one another; all the while connecting as a group. Seeing this opportunity, I suggested we apply for the Women in Comedy Festival that was coming up at the time and the others were really keen although perhaps unsure if we would get in. We somehow did end up getting in, despite being a brand new troupe and LADIES WHO IMPROV haven’t looked back since! 

Do you remember your very first show together—and how it felt compared to now? 

Our first show was a bit of a blur. There was some nerves floating around. We not only sold out, but they also had to add more seats to the venue due to demand and so we felt the pressure to be great. Luckily, it was a great show and the audience had a lot of fun, but I think we perhaps were still getting to know each others styles and comfort levels within scenes and characters. Our shows now are a lot slicker and tighter in terms of cuts and character traits. Of course there are still some nerves but we don’t feel as much pressure. We just want to have fun and as we now know each other so well as performers, we really do enjoy performing together.  

What’s the funniest audience suggestion you’ve ever run with?

That is a hard one, as we have had so many, including words such as ‘Help’ etc. I guess one stand out one for me, would be from our first ever show. An audience member decided mid game to shout a suggestion. Ever the professional, I jumped at the chance to hear this. The suggestion was to continue the game but to have an audience member join us on stage (as an extra LADIES WHO IMPROV member). I assumed this would be the enthusiastic suggester, but in fact they did not want to do it and decided it should be someone else instead. So we then had to find someone else to volunteer and chaos ensued. It was a lot of fun and luckily both audience members were great sports! 

What has it meant to you to carve out space as women in a scene that can be very male-dominated?

I think it is really important to all of us in the troupe to continue to do this and to inspire and encourage other females to join in with improv and comedy as a whole. It’s surprising that in this day and age this is still a thing but we think it is very important to acknowledge this and build a safe space for women to play, interact and be silly. It is a very male-dominating industry, but that doesn’t mean it can’t ever change. I think there needs to be more celebration and focus on women within comedy. This is why we are so excited to be performing at the Women in Comedy Festival on 8th October 2025. 

What advice would you give to other women looking to step into improv or comedy for the first time? 

Just go for it! I have done a variety of comedy courses and improv classes in different cities across the UK, and it can be really hard when you are a newbie in an already established group or scene, but showing up is truly half the work. After that first interaction, you will have at least met one person you click with. Then after the next time, you will find some others who maybe have the same humour and before you know it, you will have people you trust and enjoy performing with regularly. I would also say if you are Manchester based then introduce yourself to companies such as Thirsty Productions, The Totally Improvised Company or Improv North. They’re all friendly and eager to have new people join!

How do you want audiences to feel when they walk away from one of your shows?

Apart from exhaustion from laughter, we want our audience to feel entertained and happy! Our shows are silly, fun and at times incredibly absurd. They are a source of fun and enjoyment, both for the audience and for us as a troupe. It would be great if some of the audience wanted to know how to start doing improv themselves. Perhaps they are looking for a new hobby or always wanted to try it. We love chatting to our audience after the show at the bar, so if anyone needs any advice on how to get into the improv community in Manchester, we would be happy to help.

Catch Ladies Who Improve on 8th October at 8.30pm at the Fitzgerald in Manchester (as part of the Women in Comedy Festival). Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Charlie Russell

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

Fanny is a comedy celebrating music, family and – at last – the work of a composer overlooked because of her sex. We sat down with Charlie Russell to discuss her upcoming role.

What drew you personally to Fanny Mendelssohn’s story, and how does stepping into her shoes change your perspective on creativity and recognition?

I’m drawn to her story because Fanny was a talented woman, full of potential, who never got to realise that potential in her own lifetime due to societal pressures and sexism, which feels deeply unjust. According to many historians, she and her family prized themselves on being funny, as well as musically gifted, and I loved the chance to play such a bright, funny and dynamic woman. I used to think that fame and recognition was a direct reflection on the quality of someone’s work. Now I can see clearly that that isn’t always the way, in many cases extremely talented people have been overlooked, throughout history and sadly this continues.

Having originated the role at The Watermill, how has your portrayal of Fanny evolved as the play comes to London?

It’s exciting to return to the role and see what else can be discovered. Calum Finlay has written a fantastic new draft. I’m exploring her relationships with her different family members even more, and looking into the ways Fanny isn’t a perfect hero. I’m also a bit better at conducting now!

Mischief is known for its anarchic comedy—how does Fanny blend that playful spirit with a story about overlooked female genius?

We’re not telling a true story of Fanny’s life. There is an excellent documentary you can watch if you’d like an accurate account, I highly recommend it. (Fanny: The Other Mendelssohn) We’re telling the ‘what if’ story. ‘What if’ she had the chance to grasp power and agency in her life. ‘What if’ she’d gone on an adventure and realised her dreams. And what’s more anarchic than that? That style of comedy suits the play really well. It’s in this world, this imagined world, that we can employ fantastical ideas, surreal and silly moments, and even moments of farce to best take her on this adventure.

What excites you most about the “Noble Call,” and how do you see it extending Fanny’s legacy beyond the play itself?


It’s a brilliant idea from our director, Katie-Ann McDonough, based on an Irish tradition. Katie-Ann felt that one of the best ways to honour a talented musical woman, who’d had no platform, was to extend a platform to women musicians now. It is also a way to honour our insanely talented MD, Yshani Perinpanayagam who has given so much to the production. 

Both Fanny, her mother Lea and Fanny’s sister Rebecca were known for hosting parties where musicians were given the chance to play and share their work. So really, we’re just carrying on that Mendelssohn legacy. If you come and see the play, perhaps you’ll catch the next Fanny, the next Yshani, in the making!

As both performer and Creative Associate, how do you balance your artistic instincts with shaping the production more broadly?

Working with Katie-Ann and Calum is really special. They have such a clear vision for the show, but they’re also inherently collaborative artists. Prior to rehearsal I collaborate with them on the script as a Creative, for example giving my thoughts on the story, or comedy beats. If we’re in rehearsal, working on the play then my work takes on that of an actor, developing the roles and the relationships with the other characters. I’m looking at how to best serve the play and the direction. With my Mischief experience I do have an eye on the play as a whole, and then am able to feed back to the other Creatives any thoughts or ideas I’ve had. Sometimes it’s just for a specific comedic moment, or it might be something more applicable to the play in general. But everyone’s ideas and input is welcome, Katie-Ann creates a very creative room to work in!

Fanny imagines a “what if” moment in history—what do you think theatre uniquely offers in reimagining voices that were once silenced?

I think theatre can bring alive stories in a very dynamic way. Theatre is inherently magical – we ask one group of people to sit in a room and watch another group of people pretend to be other people, right in front of them! As theatre makers we ask audiences to imagine battles, balls, magical lands, Queens, fairies, spies – we ask them to believe that people break out into song and dance, or turn into donkeys, or fly on broomsticks. When you understand that the only limits are that of our imagination, then the possibilities are endless. We can take these people from history and give them an imagined story, one that can celebrate and serve them. One that can even give them a whole new story… I like to think we give Fanny an adventure she would have relished. She deserved one.

Fanny plays at King’s Head Theatre until 15th November. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Lucy Pearman

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We sat down with Lucy Pearman to talk about Lunatic. Lucy has just come off a sell-out Edinburgh Fringe with Lunartic, which was met with strong critical acclaim and multiple award nominations, including a nomination for The Malcolm Hardee Award for Comic Originality. Lucy will be performing at Soho Theatre from 29th Sept – 4th October. Tickets available HERE.

What inspired you to create a comedy where the Moon takes centre stage?

hmmmmm good question

I think I just spent so much time looking at the moon after gigs. It would always be there and see me home. However the gig had gone, I could always count on the moon to be up there. I’d sort of chat to the moon and say thanks for being there like a sort of nocturnal colleague and I suppose I started to wonder what life was like from her side of things.

How do you weave heartfelt themes like loneliness into a show packed with surreal characters and props?

I guess it’s sort of quite well hidden as the show is so silly but for me the moon just felt like quite a lonely figure, sort of isolated and a little bit sad which is, I think something we have all experienced at some point in our lives. So I think I tried to humanise the moon and imagine what might be difficult for her

After several sell-out runs, what keeps drawing you back to perform at Soho Theatre?

I very sadly lost my incredible director Adam Brace in 2023. He was so supportive in helping me bring all my previous shows to Soho Theatre so I have huge affection, gratitude and very very fond memories of working with Adam and the whole team there. I love the Soho Theatre, I’m so happy to be coming back.

You were nominated for the Malcolm Hardee Award for Comic Originality this year – how do you keep pushing yourself to stay original?

That’s a big question… it’s not really ever something I’ve ever had to push I don’t think…. I just sort of do what’s in my brain and heart and go from there

How does the thrill of live comedy compare with your work in television and film?

Well, with live comedy, the audience don’t laugh if they don’t like it so that’s quite sobering. With tv stuff you’re sort of trying to make the crew laugh who aren’t really allowed to laugh so that’s a different sort of fun it’s all a bit thrilling and terrifying to be honest, the whole business 

What do you hope audiences feel or take away after experiencing Lunartic?

I hope they have a bit of a laugh, actually a big laugh and I hope they get to sing along to ‘total eclipse of the heart’ and I hope they all tap into a sort of childlike escapism for 55 mins