IN CONVERSATION WITH: Bill Schaumberg

Three Chickens Confront Existence returns with its eggs-traordinary blend of comedy, tragedy, and surreal existential musings. Set in a factory farm, this hilariously profound show channels Waiting for Godot, but with chickens, as it tackles mortality, power and purpose. We sat down with Writer and Director, Bill Schaumberg to discuss his upcoming production.


Thank you for chatting with A Young(ish) Perspective! Introduce us to who you are and what your doing at the Edinburgh Fringe this year?  

Hi. My name is Bill Schaumberg and I’m the writer and director of the play Three Chickens Confront Existence playing at Underbelly Cowgate for a full run at this year’s Edinburgh Fringe Fest. 

A Youngish Perspective platforms accessible arts and champions the huge scope of different perspectives – can you tell us about the show you’re taking to Edinburgh Festival Fringe as if you’re flyering to both a young first-time-Fringe goer and a festival veteran returning every year?  

You’re going to die! I’m going to die! We are all going to die! Now that I’ve got that unpleasantness out of the way – let me ask you this? How would you like to explore this fundamental and unsettling truth through the lens of three fabulously costumed, introspective, and extremely witty factory farmed chickens as they passionately explore their comically impossible situation – awaiting their imminent trip to the broiler? 

When developing an absurdist show such as this one, how are you able to ground the plot and the themes? 

I think I’m able to ground the plot and themes of the play by keeping everything anchored to a core and relatable (human) experience. No matter how exaggerated and ridiculous these characters’ attempts to make sense of their situation and find deeper meaning are they remain, at their root, relatable – we just stretch these universal experiences to absurdist lengths.  

Three Chickens Confront Existence centres humanity and does not contain any human characters. What was the process of developing each of these chickens and ensuring that they had allure and motivations of their own? 

That’s a great question. I thought of the different coping mechanisms I, and people I know, employ (consciously or otherwise) when dealing with mortality and transience, and I built the characters from there. One character copes through intellectual detachment and obsesses over discovering a formula that will reveal a pattern dictating which cell block is sent to the broiler and when. Another character, who I refer to casually as “Hamlet in Feathers,” remains a steadfast contrarian who shuns escapism and broods endlessly about the injustice of his life, and a third character attempts to view everything as glass half full, focusing on the simple things she’s grateful for, anxiously avoiding unpleasant inner and outer truths. Through the course of the play, each character grows and discovers new perspectives and parts of themselves they didn’t know existed – ultimately finding a lot of common ground I think. 

Who would your surprise dream audience member be?  

Without thinking too much about it, the first person that came to mind was: John Cleese.   

Underbelly Cowgate (Belly Button) from 31st July – 24th August at 17:20. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Jack Parris

The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager is an absurdist dark satire around office culture. Created by Bunkum Ensemble, the show blends physical comedy, live music and pointless galore the psychological toll of corporate culture and our search for meaning through work. Through a series of live-scored musical PowerPoint presentations, this is a show for those who question what they are doing at work and want to laugh along the way. We sat down with Jack to discuss his upcoming production.


  1. Thank you for chatting with A Young(ish) Perspective! Introduce us to who you are and what your doing at the Edinburgh Fringe this year?  

Hello. I’m Jack Parris, writer of The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager. I also play Ben in the show which is a new dark comedy produced by our company, Bunkum Ensemble. Our work is developed through improvisations between musicians and performers and we are excited to be sharing this at The Above 17:20 across the entire festival (not 11th,12th,13th) 

  1. A Youngish Perspective platforms accessible arts and champions the huge scope of different perspectives – can you tell us about the show you’re taking to Edinburgh Festival Fringe as if you’re flyering to both a young first-time-Fringe goer and a festival veteran returning every year?  

The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager is about a man called Ben Weaver who picks up a magical lanyard, and is transformed into his alter ego Ben Manager. He then receives a relentless series of promotions up the corporate hierarchy despite not knowing what he’s meant to be doing. It’s a dark comedy, and surreal satire of management culture with live scored music, songs, puppetry, powerpoints and physical theatre. The show is this year’s winner of the Charlie Hartill Early Ensemble Fund and we are delighted to be supported by Pleasance to bring this run to Edinburgh in 2025 – we wouldn’t be here without this support. Thank you, Pleasance! 

  1. The Unstoppable Rise of Ben Manager is a commentary and criticism of office culture, what do you hope Fringe audiences will take away from the piece and bring to their own life?  

Hopefully they’ll get to take away some useful jargon to expand their corporate toolkit. Maybe reflect on their own bullsh*t job.  

  1.  How has this show changed and developed over time – have any of the central themes shifted? 

The ending! Writing a good ending is always difficult. It always feels like the most important bit to me. We’ve played with a few different endings to sharpen the satire a bit. In performance we found quite a few ambiguities in the piece and so we’ve been tweaking the script to keep the useful ambiguities while clearing up the ones that aren’t helpful. It’s tricky but satisfying work/play. 

  1. Who would your surprise dream audience member be?  

The CEO of JP Morgan Chase. Or some real life actual management consultants. 

Pleasance Courtyard (Above) from 31st July – 25th August at 17:20. Tickets available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Richard Stirling

Compton Mackenzie‘s 1928 comic novel bursts onto the stage for the first time with a glorious score by Tony Award winner Sarah Travis (orchestrator Sweeney Todd – Broadway, upcoming Brigadoon – Regent’s Park Theatre) and lyrics by actor and bestselling author Richard Stirling (Cecil Beaton’s Diaries – Off Broadway, Julie Andrews: an intimate biography) by kind permission of the Society of Authors. We sat down with Richard to discuss their upcoming production.


This is the first time Compton Mackenzie’s Extraordinary Women has been adapted for the stage. What drew you to this particular novel, and how did you approach translating its comic spirit into a musical format?

The piece was originally commissioned in lockdown, by Stewart Nicholls, BA Musical Theatre Programme Leader and Associate Professor at Guildford School of Acting. I am unsure how he came across the book, but I know he was looking for a subject for a predominately female group of student Finalists. And when the piece was performed, albeit remotely, they were very fine indeed. I have to say, we owe everything to Stewart and his discovery. Sarah Travis and I wrote the basic piece 

reasonably quickly: the characters, location, period and humour all lent themselves to musical treatment remarkably easily.

As both lyricist and book writer, how did you work with Sarah Travis to weave her music and your words into a unified theatrical language? Could you describe your collaborative process in shaping the tone and rhythm of the show? Were there particular moments where the music shaped the story, or vice versa?

As I say, Sarah and I wrote separately in lockdown isolation. We then had a couple of meetings in the period when we were allowed to mingle. I wrote the lyrics first for the majority of narrative and ‘point’ songs, but Sarah set the musical landscape early on, as well as landing some of the score’s catchiest earworms. Working with a Tony Award winner is a privilege, but Sarah and I had great satisfaction in pitching ideas, lyrical and musical, by Zoom. And although she is a phenomenal composer, her theatrical instinct is frighteningly acute.

The show celebrates a group of ‘extraordinary women’ in a post-WWI Mediterranean setting. How did you interpret or expand the gender politics and queer subtext of Mackenzie’s original work for a contemporary musical theatre audience?

The beauty of the book is as a comic novel. There is no didacticism, just a fullhearted depiction of women after the Great War making a brilliant and sometime reckless life for themselves – as one of them says, ‘contro il mondo’. But actually they are not against the world, but in pursuit of self-identification and agency. They are mostly monied. And lesbian. But more than anything they are women on their own terms, and dazzling with it. One of the delights for an audience today is to see how a male writer let these extraordinary women leap off the page a century ago.

The setting of the island of Sirene feels both idyllic and volatile, with themes of paradise, desire, and disruption. How did you and the creative team, including director Paul Foster and designer Alex Marker, envision the world of the island theatrically?

Sirene is paradise for these women. Paul Foster and Joanne Goodwin, director and choreographer, have done a truly stunning job of bringing the characters and their locale to life. Jermyn Street Theatre is a small space. But the world Paul and Joanna have created with this extraordinary group of West End performers is as persuasive as anything I have seen recently in London. The result is both specific and evocative.

You’ve previously worked on stage biographies and adaptations of historic figures. How does Extraordinary Women fit into your broader artistic interests in history, character, and reinvention—and what new ground does it allow you to explore as a writer?

I have always enjoyed writing female roles, and make it a badge of honour to have more women than men in a cast, if I can. The 1920s was an extraordinary time, in which everything changed for women, particularly if young. After centuries of covering their bodies and following in their male relatives’ shadows, suddenly they were encouraged to bare their legs, cut their hair, have a good time (even if they couldn’t afford it) and face the world with defiance. Of course, there was burn-out with the stock market crash of 1929. And of course women needed to have money to indulge these freedoms. But even for poorer women, there was a new wind in the air, and this must have been intoxicating. The women in this play are defiant about the world, to their last breath.

Extraordinary Women runs at Jermyn Street Theatre from 23 July to 10 August.  For more information and to book click here https://www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk/show/extraordinary-women-a-new-musical-of-the-1920s/

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Ben O’Sullivan

Silly and surreal comedian Ben O’Sullivan answers the big questions everyone reaches in their 30s. Am I a narcissist or is it just the piercing? His show Bermuda Rhombus is playing at Manahatta Bar from the 17th – 24th of August for Edinburgh Fringe and at Aces and Eights on the 4th and 10th of August for Camden Fringe. Get your tickets here.

Your show plays with the idea of narcissism, but not in the obvious, loud way. How do you think narcissism shows up in quieter, background ways — especially in artists or performers?

    You definitely have to be somewhat of a narcissist to pursue comedy. We spend our whole lives performing in pubs. It’s either because we want to tell jokes or we’re alcoholics or narcissists most of the time it’s all three, and since working on this show I found it hard to come to terms with my narcissistic tendencies because as an artist it’s super easy to let that part of you completely takeover in the pursuit of creative expression but then what kind of person does that make you if you can’t reign it in? 

    I think narcissism is interesting because it’s inherently subtextual. It’s deep rooted within people. It’s easy to not see it in someone until you realise you’ve known someone for years and they’ve never asked you what you think or how you feel you know? Then you feel dumb for giving so much of your time to someone.

    I believe it’s a very subtle trait and I want the show to reflect that for example I talk a lot about my new ear piercing, now you could see that as a lot of silly jokes (which it is) or you could see it as a character engulfed in his own ego that he assumes everyone needs to hear everything about this pretty mundane change in lifestyle.

    There’s a constant tension in creative work: do you want to be popular, or do you want to be original? Where do you fall on that spectrum?

    That’s the eternal question isn’t it? I fall on the side of striving for originality above all else and hope you eventually find a group of diehards that love your comedic voice and that’s maybe naive faith but the thought of writing something with the specific intention of being relatable makes me feel a bit hollow, I’m a weird guy and it’s fighting the tide not to embrace that.  I see comics that do relatable stuff really well and it’s impressive and they’re funny but that’s never been who I am. Originality and difference is a great thing it may stop you from immediate success and it may be a longer road but it’ll make you funnier and funny wins above everything that’s my take on it.

    You describe Bermuda Rhombus as not an inherently personal debut. Why make that choice, especially when so many debut shows lean hard into autobiography?

    I guess I’m at a point in my life where i don’t want people to know me I want people to know my jokes and my idea, and a certain part of me is petulant and thinks ‘okay I’m suppose to do an introspective personal show because this is my debut and that’s the formula.  So I’m going to do something deeply impersonal’ it’s not a smart career move to zag when everyone zigs but in my opinion it makes for something more interesting.

    Last year I did a 45 minute show and it was all about Bowling (no I don’t like Bowling) and it was an objectively dumb idea a whole show about something so benign and pointless but it was fun and it forced me to be creative with my writing, now this show is somewhat different as I’m trying to explore broader ideas but surrealism and silliness and dumbness that’s what really makes me laugh. I saw the great Mark Silcox do a show last year called ‘Women Only’ and he explored serious topics but he did it in a way that only Mark Silcox could’ve and that really stood out to me and made me think, you can just do whatever show you want and if it’s funny enough and creative enough people will like it. 

    How much of writing this show was about accepting yourself as an artist, and trusting your voice?

      I felt truly lucky early on in my comedy journey I had a friend who is maybe the best comedy brain I’ve ever come across and he always told me follow your instincts no matter what and he was the first true believer in me not an idea of what I could be or should be but a believer in the way I’d say things and the angles I would take.

      I guess after a few years of doing comedy you come to a crossroads you can either give up or trust that your voice is unique and pray that your inner self isn’t a hack.

      And it’s tough right because you see some amazing comics ahead of you writing great jokes and killing it. Like especially in London you’ve got some absolute geniuses on the scene Louie McLean, Candace Bryan, Marty Gleeson and I look up to them because they’re all different and they’re all unique but you can tell they grind out their bits in a notebook 

      In your mind, what matters more: the writing of the material, or the performance of it?

        I think broadly speaking in my opinion great writing can make up for poor performance but poor writing can’t be saved by a good performance. My favourite part of comedy is writing stuff in a notebook working for hours trying to find the right tag or the right line. The greatest comics ever were all the ones who had super dumb ideas but wrote them really well and that’s badass. I think I’m attracted to the writing more because I don’t consider myself a good writer it’s not a natural talent of mine I have to scrape and claw for every bit and maybe that’s why I hold it in such high regard?

        Finally, what do you hope people leave the show thinking?

          I want people to leave crying of laughter  thinking that guy is weird as well but fair play he does look great with an earring.

          IN CONVERSATION WITH: God, a Scottish Drag Queen

          God, dressed in a floral power suit, comes down to set the record straight and expound on everything from Adam and Eve to Star Wars and answer humankind’s most asked questions in a hilarious, heartwarming, and unforgettable night of comedy. Adored by preachers and atheists alike, this show has become one of the most popular shows touring today and has received critical acclaim for its non-stop brilliant look at pop culture and humanity through the eyes of a silly, foul mouthed, and very lovable Scottish Deity.

          28th July 2025, Leicester Square Theatre


          How on earth did you come up with the idea to turn God into a Scottish drag queen? Was there a divine moment of inspiration?
          It all happened by chance. The character came about in a sketch comedy troupe I belonged to. Every month we wrote a new through line, and one was a battle of the bands between Jesus & Satan which, as we all know, happens every 5,000 years. I played Jesus’ dad. The image of God from the Sistine Chapel heavily influenced the look. A stern face, but also wearing a very feminine pink frock. After a quick run to a charity shop, the first power suit was found.

          The first night I wore a fiery red wig and big black Lady Gaga style glasses and donned a thick English accent. The sketches didn’t go as well as we hoped and I couldn’t figure out why. I worried that the English accent might have come off too stern and head master-ish. The next night I made a switch to a Scottish accent, a simple black bob wig, and spectacles worn at the end of my nose. A fun, silly, foul mouthed Scottish Deity was born.

          That first sketch was 19 years ago. Today my wife and I write and direct the shows, of which there are now 4 with a 5th on the way later this fall. I never dreamed I would still be playing the character and I certainly didn’t think it would become such a huge part of my life, but I am very happy and grateful that it did.

          There’s a brilliant balance in the show — you’re skewering everything from religion to Star Wars. How do you walk that line between satire and warmth?
          Moving a show from the traditional stand up form over to a theatrical one man show has allowed us to play with the levels and dynamics of the material. I think in this modern age, many people want to consume art and information through the lense of comedy. So many people get their news from late night comedy shows. Talking about difficult things with a lighthearted edge has allowed us to blend very difficult subject matter with absolute silly pop culture references and make it all feel like it belongs. We also make sure we are never punching down. Some jokes don’t age well, so when the landscape changes, we adapt with it.

          What was the first moment you realised this character had something really special?
          The character seemed to connect very quickly with audiences. The Scottish accent very much lets the audience know the character is in on the joke, so even the most serious moments have a fun and relaxed feeling. Many years ago a father and his teenage child in very rural Canada came to see the show. After the performance the Dad shared with me that his child was trans. As we talked he told me that he would always be there for his kid, always support them and love them. Happy to use whatever pronouns they liked, but he said that he never really understood why. During the show he told me he had his moment of realization. He finally understood why his child needed to make the change. I thought, if I don’t ever get to do this show again, that moment was enough. It’s something I will never forget.

          You’ve been embraced by both preachers and atheists, which is no small feat. Why do you think this version of God resonates with people from such different walks of life?
          I certainly understand that the title can scare off a few folks and ruffle some feathers. I can’t imagine what some people think the show is. However, the folks that take the risk and come out to see the show get to see a fun, hilarious, and heartwarming night of comedy. I think people are expecting a tearing down of religion, but in this show God is not the punchline, but the comedian. The jokes aren’t about God, but about what God must think of the world we have created. Anybody who grew up with an ounce of religion in their life, from Catholic school to Sunday services, will enjoy it even more than the folks who didn’t because they will know some of the stories already. The goal is that people leave feeling lighthearted and happy.

          After doing comedy for over a decade, what keeps it fresh?
          Always changing and adapting. In 2022 we took this show back to the drawing board and pulled out almost half of the material and replaced it with newer jokes. We write a new hour of material every summer that then gets tucked into all the shows in the series. If a joke ages out, the landscape changes, or we just think of something better, then the changes are made. It has never once felt old to me.

          REVIEW: Kiki and Herb


          Rating: 5 out of 5.

          Deliciously delirious, Kiki and Herb set Soho Theatre Walthamstow on proverbial fire


          In their first London performance since 2007, Justin Vivian Bond and Kenny Mellman bring their iconic New York based cabaret act Kiki and Herb to Soho Theatre Walthamstow for a riotous, speedy run. Over the course of two and a bit hours, Kiki and Herb tickle audiences with a truly striking spectacle of music and delightfully ‘drunken’ yapping. 

          The audience, punctuated with the energy of welcoming a beloved relative back home, buckled in for what would be an absolute ride. Kiki and Herb’s act has to be seen to truly be understood; they straddle various categories, paying homage to drag, cabaret, and the showgirls of yore. Kiki is drag, contained within a piece that expands what drag is understood to be. She commands the stage, oscillating between belting ballads and surprising mashups, both speeding up and slowing down the music to keep up with her constant meandering speech that seems to emerge as an inner monologue broken free from the constraints of the mind. Kiki glitters, literally and figuratively, her jewels and glass straw in her never-empty drink adding ambient noise to her song and speech. 

          Kiki is not the most reliable narrator – with her proclivity for boozing, genuinely incredible stories and apparent age of 95, she steers the ship with gloriously chaotic gumption for the evening. Accompanied as always by Herb on the piano, which he plays with astonishing skill and a hilariously individual style. Herb is the proverbial rock of the duo; Kiki and Herb are companions in life and on the stage, their relationship embodied with humor and sentimentality. The evening progresses in step with the duo’s consumption of booze, descending into apocalyptic apathy by the close of the evening. Emotional monologues increase in their unhinged logic as the songs become more deranged in nature. We learn more about the highlights and low points of Kiki and Herb’s illustrious careers and lives, the truthfulness of which remains obscure. The delight of Kiki and Herb lies within their subsistence and spirit, which flies in the face of truth at times, a potential response to the reality of the hazardous socio-political landscape we occupy. 

          Kiki and Herb are resilience embodied, the plight of their lives so insane it almost acts as a salve to the terrors of our age. The pair transcend any era; they are of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. One can envision the two exactly as they are now, performing with the same wit and pathos a hundred years from today, leaving audiences with the same sense of uncanny hopefulness. 

          REVIEW: Treasure Island


          Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

          “Treasure Island” was certainly not your typical night out but boy was it entertaining. Full of belly laughter and absolute joy onstage the play was brilliant to watch”


          “Physical Theatre Company “Le Navet Bete” have been operating for over 10 years and have won multiple awards for their UK touring productions. The journey began in 2003 where Al Dunn, Nick Bunt and Matt Freeman met at the University of Plymouth all with a passion for clowning and comedy  who then went on to create the company in 2008. “Treasure Island” was first performed in 2019/2020. Due to its success Le Navet Bete took the show on tour again around the UK in 2024. Although there were a few hiccups on opening night, this only added more joy and hysteria to the performance.  

          The play was a hilarious interpretation of the classic tale “Treasure Island” written and directed by the brilliant John Nicholson. The cast consisted of 4 talented actors who had flawless multirole skills. This was assisted by the intricately designed costumes reflecting each character effortlessly. Matt Freeman worked flat out throughout the whole show changing costumes, characters and performing with excellent comedic timing even if it did mean tripping up the stage as the infamous Ben Gunn wearing a flip flop and a welly boot. Nick Bunt performed as 14 year old Jim Hawkins with grit, determination and with “the musical talented of a poo hitting a drum”. The jokes were witty and a great balance between mature and suitable for a younger audience.

          The set design had a similar resemble to the Mamma Mia musical set that was really interesting and visually pleasing. The set for “Treasure Island” had palm trees and trapdoors and ladders onto top deck which was very effective. The set was lit by Marcus Bartlett and Alex Best, who captured the essence of a deserted island extremely well and showcased the acting perfectly. There was lots of audience interaction, including bringing an audience member on stage to help play a game of higher or lower. The play had well known songs that the audience bopped along to, especially played by Long John Silver’s bird “Alexa”. The opening night mishaps made the audience shriek with laughter and giggles as it was covered well by the actors and successfully continued the scenes if something went wrong. A very talented cast!

          “Treasure Island” was certainly not your typical night out but boy was it entertaining. Full of belly laughter and absolute joy onstage the play was brilliant to watch. Making such funny writing into a full-scale play is big feat and the company achieved it in leaps and bounds! Hats off to Abi Jones who stepped in last minute as stage manager on the show and doing an excellent job. The performance of the show on the 5th July at the Oxford Playhouse was an awesome watch and I highly recommend any theatre goers of any age to see this fabulous show on the next leg of its journey in Wakefield in September.

          REVIEW: The Play That Goes Wrong


          Rating: 5 out of 5.

          4001 performances later, and The Play that Goes Wrong is still going so, so right.


          Let’s not beat around the bush here: The Play That Goes Wrong is not a show you need convincing to see. If you’ve heard of it, you’ve likely been told by someone who’s seen it that it’s an absolute riot. This review isn’t going to reinvent the wheel, because when it comes to this kind of ridiculous, slapstick brilliance, everyone already knows what’s coming – it’s comedy gold. But I’d be doing a disservice if I didn’t share just how much fun I had at the Duchess Theatre during their 4001st performance, and with a brand-new cast.

          Here’s the thing: The Play That Goes Wrong is a true crowd-pleaser in every sense of the word. Whether you’re 7 or 70, you’re guaranteed to leave with sore cheeks from all the laughter – not one person was immune to the show’s infectious comedy. Every laugh, every gasp, every “did-that-just-happen?” moment was shared by the whole crowd. And we’re talking consistent laughter here – not just the occasional chuckle, but full-on belly laughs that had the theatre practically shaking for two hours straight.

          This was the debut of a brand-new cast, and it didn’t show for a second. I never had the pleasure of seeing the previous cast in action, so I went in with fresh eyes – and let me tell you, I was completely won over. You’d think this troupe had been performing this show together for years, their comedic timing was so on point. It’s the kind of seamless performance where every blunder and snappy line lands with perfection. The whole thing is one big, joyful mess of chaos, and it’s honestly impressive how well the cast pulls it off.

          The script is a parody of a parody, with new gags practically every minute (sometimes more), and the performers deliver them with a glorious blend of slapstick and sharp wit that had me in stitches. There’s one particular sequence towards the end of Act 1 where I literally could not stop laughing – my face ached by the time the interval arrived. That’s the magic of this show: it’s non-stop fun from start to finish.

          But let’s take a moment to talk about the cast. Izzy Edmunds-Clarke as stage manager Annie and Ronnie Yorke as the sound/lighting technician were so effortlessly believable as the backstage crew caught up in the mayhem. You could practically feel the sweat and panic as their night spiraled out of control. Charlotte Scott, as ingenue Sandra, brings the perfect level of exaggerated flamboyance to her role – think every over-the-top, “stagey” TikTok girl you’ve ever seen, but brought to life in the most hilarious way. Robert Jackson as Robert and Jack Hardwick as Chris played off each other with ease, trying to keep their composure amid the absolute catastrophe unfolding around them. Jonty Peach as Jonathan – well, hats off to anyone who can make playing a dead body so riotously funny. And Mitesh Soni as Dennis and Tom Wainwright as Max were scene stealers, with Soni’s facial expressions alone deserving their own standing ovation. Wainwright, on the other hand, delivers the kind of comically-campy, hammed-up performance that’s both endearing and hilarious.

          The long and short of it is this: If you’ve been on the fence about seeing The Play That Goes Wrong, stop hesitating. And if you’ve seen it before – it’s definitely worth a rewatch. The new cast is exceptional, the script as sharp and funny as ever, and the physical comedy and delivery is next-level. This show, for all its mishaps, is the best kind of right you could ask for at the theatre. It’s a masterclass in comedic timing, and I genuinely think it’s even funnier than you could expect. In a show where things go wrong, they’ve managed to get everything absolutely right.

          REVIEW: Press


          Rating: 4 out of 5.

          A sharp mockery of Hollywood politics 


          Originally premiering at the Edinburgh Fringe in 2021 and returning to London a fourth time in the Jack Studio, Press sees Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller as writer, director and lead in this snappy two-hander. The premise already gets the palms sweating: two Hollywood producers do some Olympic level damage control after it comes to light that their based-on-a-true-story, award-baiting slavery flick’s leading actor (a white man) is in fact playing a man who was himself a slave (a black man). Their dreams of winning a ‘Goldie’ are in peril, and to make matters worse the nominations are being announced in an hour. 

          Brimmer-Beller’s writing is beautifully parodic. Frequently unafraid to kick below the belt of the Hollywood idyll, there’s an honest jadedness. His clunky attempts at executing the most PR friendly statement when put on the spot are brilliant stuff. Every squirm and twitch and bead of sweat feels magnified. Rosie Hart, Brimmer-Beller’s level-headed colleague, is all unflappable coolness until she starts making her brown-nosing phone calls to the big-wigs. It’s all about who you know after all, or whose boot you’re willing to lick cleanest. 

          The dramatic pacing is strong. The action progresses nicely, only rarely becoming slack. As flies on the wall we see the unfiltered desperation build, nearly every last option is evaluated in speedy detail. Sometimes the humming and hawing begins to grate, but often it leads to quippy retorts and welcome absurdity. The absurd is especially effective when performed with a humanely frank desperation, the occasional sitcommy grimaces and punchlines only pull us out of the action — particularly in such an intimate venue. 

          In all, Press is a sharply executed mockery of the Hollywood veneer. Its jabs at the corporate repackaging of diversity and inclusion that suck all the meaning out of the words and consumerist entertainment are articulate but never unfunny. Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller has a zany, zeitgeist aware style that keeps the laughs coming in this canny work of theatre.

          REVIEW: The Ticking


          Rating: 4 out of 5.

          “A literal blast from start to finish: weird, witty and wonderfully real in all the right ways.”


          The pre-show warning for The Ticking promises “foul language, loud noises, and extreme stupidity” – and it delivers with infectious energy and hilarious absurdity. What begins as a chaotic, hungover attempt to piece together the remnants of a night out becomes altogether more absurd, funny, and occasionally profound.

          The show opens with a bang – or rather, a mysterious, ominously ticking briefcase – and never loses momentum. The ensemble, all nursing brutal hangovers, scramble to work out what happened the night before. The setup feels instantly familiar: not in detail (most of us haven’t handled a bomb post-night-out), but in vibe. I was transported back to countless mornings at university spent rehashing nights that are a blur at best. 

          The script is packed with sharp one-liners, physical gags, and cultural touchstones that land excellently with the target audience. I’m not sure Gen Z will clock the Potter Puppet Pals shoutout (of course) quite as enthusiastically as I did, but it was a nostalgic delight.

          The cast is a tight ensemble, with particularly standout performances from Aaron Barrow and Jack Cavendish, who played Mike and Hugo respectively – they are both consistently hilarious and incredibly watchable. These are characters we all recognise – everyone’s met a Mike, a Hugo, a Jay, and a Connor – and that relatability adds to the fun.

          What really stands out is how well the show balances absurdity with authenticity. Underneath the ticking bomb and rising panic is a thoughtful (and very funny) exploration of friendship, class, and the tangled way that we, as humans, assign blame. It’s no small feat to make a potential bomb threat hilarious – but somehow that ends up being one of the least dramatic things going on.

          The script is packed with clever moments of reflection that never drag down the pace or undercut the comedy. The staging makes brilliant use of The Drayton Arms’ intimate space, transforming the stage entirely with just simple set design and prop work. 

          It’s a tightly structured play – which makes the sudden turn into climate commentary feel slightly off-key. The recurring Greta Thunberg jokes land with ease, but when the show pushes further into climate messaging, it starts to lose some of its earlier finesse. The exploration of class, responsibility, and the messiness of humanity feels far more grounded and effective.

          Still, there’s something endearing about a show that’s willing to swing big. The Ticking knows exactly who it’s for, and leans into that with confidence and charm. It’s rare to find a play that’s genuinely laugh-out-loud funny while still tugging at something real.

          I only wish we could have stayed in the mystery a little longer – the journey of trying to piece it all together was so much fun, I almost didn’t want it solved. It’s a rare thing to wish a mystery stayed unsolved, but that’s the feeling I was left with. The moment The Ticking starts to explain itself – particularly in its attempt to take its climate change message further – some of the magic deflates a little. There’s an admirable ambition to say something important, but the execution felt slightly muddled and almost over-explained. Still, the journey is undeniably entertaining.

          If The Ticking had trusted its own mystery a little longer, resisted the urge to tidy everything up, and let us sit in the joyful confusion just a few beats more, it might have been something special. That said, as it stands it’s a blast (literally) from start to finish: weird, witty and wonderfully real in all the right ways.