IN CONVERSATION WITH: THE NAKED NEDS

Hot off the heels of their sold-out 2024 tour, The Naked Neds are back! Get ready for a rollercoaster of laughter, tears, and maybe a few awkward moments with Paul, Jamie, Tony, Harry, and Bev! 

‘The Naked Neds’ follows a group of Glasgow lads as they navigate the turbulent aftermath of their best friend’s suicide. In a world where politicians’ expenses seem to matter more than NHS waiting lists, they decide to take matters into their own hands. After a string of failed fundraising attempts and just when their lives couldn’t get any more complicated, one of the boys finds a lump, throwing their plans – and everything else – into a whole new perspective and they realise there’s only one thing they can do; take their clothes off! 

How did the idea of combining comedy with a live self-check demonstration come about?

Ingram Noble: When I realised that me and my mates had no idea how to check ourselves I knew something had to be done about it. You can read as many leaflets or guides as you like, but nothing is going to stick in your head like three idiots on a stage talking you through how to check yourself. It’s been groundbreaking, as far as we know (and we’ve done the research!) it’s the first time it’s ever been done on stage and last year’s tour, albeit small, left us with loads of feedback from young men that checked themselves for the first time after seeing the show, after hearing that I knew that my job was done, well, almost done.

What has been the most surprising or memorable reaction from an audience member so far?

Ingram Noble: Irvine was mad – in the best possible way. They came on the ride with us and their energy just propelled us along the way. I was that into it I managed to rip a pair of tearaway trousers into shreds – with one show to go. (Sellotape did nothing but wax my legs!)

Lucian Burlingame: Probably my gran after the show, being so surprised that I had just done a full monty. 

Aidan Curley: The last night in Glasgow when my mum, girlfriend and friends all threw roses on the stage at me.

How do you strike the perfect balance between delivering laugh-out-loud moments and addressing serious health topics?

Ingram Noble: Striking the perfect balance between comedy and serious health topics is all about authenticity and timing. As a writer, I focus on ensuring that the humour feels natural to the characters and the world they inhabit, rather than forcing jokes into sensitive moments. Comedy works best when it’s rooted in truth, so I let the humour come from the characters’ personalities and interactions rather than making light of the issue itself. Pacing is also key; I structure the script so that the laughs create a comfortable atmosphere before weaving in the more serious elements. By building trust with the audience through humor, they’re more open to receiving important messages without feeling like they’re being lectured. And when you incorporate laddish, Glaswegian culture, the jokes almost write themselves. There’s something about the way Glaswegian men talk, rip into each other, and navigate awkward conversations that makes comedy flow naturally, even in unexpected moments. Of course, I always test the balance in rehearsals, making adjustments based on real reactions. The goal is for people to walk away having laughed, but also having learned something meaningful. 

Lucian Burlingame: I think the script tends to balance extremely well, where there’s a build up between the two, but it does take a lot of experimenting line-by-line to see where you can make a change to help deliver it. 

Aidan Curley: Finding the perfect balance between laughs and addressing serious issues in the play has been going through the script and making use of the characters’ jokes in the best way possible but also trying to find moments to make them vulnerable. 

Barry Morrell: We don’t treat the serious stuff like an afterthought – but we also never preach. The laughter opens the door, and once people are comfortable, we slip in the truth. It’s like having a pint with your mates and ending up chatting about the stuff that no one usually talks about. That balance comes from being honest, not trying to be clever. 

Hannah Mary Taylor: I think it’s about understanding that the characters use comedy and laughter as a way to explore these issues, it brings them up from the darker side of what they’re all going through. Once you understand that, it’s a lot easier to understand that there’s a lot going on behind the jokes and a lot more emotion. I think the two intertwine with one another and I don’t think these characters are capable of exploring one without the other.Lewis Gillon: I see the characters as real people going through things day to day, just like in reality. Treating each scene with the respect and humility it deserves is important due to the severity of the topics being shown. Authenticity is the thing that springs to mind, and placing myself in the characters’ shoes and trying to convey it had this become my reality and what my response would be to the people closest to me.

What’s one hilarious or unexpected thing that’s happened during a live performance of The Naked Neds?

Ingram Noble: Falling off of the stage, but I’m sure everyone else has mentioned that. On the final night, last year in Kirkcaldy we all lost it, completely just left the script behind after everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. There were no staples in the staple gun, beer cans were full instead of empty, though I have a feeling that might have been Lucian and Aidan trying to have a drink at the end of the tour! 

Lucian Burlingame: Ingram falling off of the stage in Glasgow and improvising a line to get out of it perfectly. 

Aidan Curley: The most hilarious thing to happen during The Naked Neds performances has to be when Ingram exited the stage and fell off of the stage. The fall was loud and sounded painful, all whilst I’m on stage with Tanya trying not to break character. To be fair to him, he managed to play it off as part of the show.

How has partnering with Cahonas Scotland helped amplify the show’s life-saving message?

Ingram Noble: There’s no point in doing the show if we’re not doing it right. Cahonas Scotland has helped us make sure that beyond the laughs, we’re delivering something genuinely meaningful. Their support has extended the show’s reach beyond the stage, allowing us to engage with audiences through online awareness campaigns, and real action. Knowing that young men are leaving the theatre not just entertained but actually checking themselves for the first time proves why this partnership matters. Their expertise in raising awareness about testicular cancer and the importance of self-checking has given our show real credibility. While The Naked Neds is first and foremost a comedy, having the backing of a respected charity ensures that the health message at its core is accurate, impactful, and reaches the right audience. I would encourage anyone reading this to head to their website (www.cahonasscotland.org) to get the lowdown on testicular cancer! (Check yersel’!)

What do you hope audiences take away – not just about men’s health, but about friendship and vulnerability?

Ingram Noble: For me, The Naked Neds is the most important thing in the world because it’s more than just a comedy, it’s a conversation starter. I want audiences to leave not only with a better understanding of men’s health but also with a deeper appreciation for friendship and

vulnerability. At its core, this show is about the way men, especially in laddish, Glaswegian culture navigate emotions, banter, and bravado while struggling to say the things that really matter. I hope people see themselves and their mates in these characters and realise that it’s okay to drop the act sometimes. It’s okay to check in on each other. It’s okay to talk about fears, health, and mental well-being without feeling like less of a man. If even one person walks away from the show and opens up to a friend, checks themselves for the first time, or just feels a little less alone, then we’ve done our job. Because at the end of the day, The Naked Neds isn’t just about laughs — it’s about a lot more. 

Lucian Burlingame: 100% that friendship is key in any situation and that vulnerability isn’t a weakness. Your friends will always be there to get you out of stuff like this. We want the audience to leave and remember to be grateful for the friendships they have. 

Aidan Curley: I hope the audiences take away, not just information about mental health but about men being able to be vulnerable around friends and being able to express themselves in a way that they aren’t going to be ridiculed by their mates for it. I also want the audience to see what a community of mates can do when put in a time of sadness and how they can work together to bring hope and raise awareness for the rest of the community. 

Barry Morrell: That it’s okay to not be okay – and it’s more than okay to talk about it. We want people to leave feeling like they’ve just had a night out with their best mates, where nothing was off-limits. If a bunch of blokes can get naked on stage and talk about testicles, you can probably check in on your mate or open up a bit yourself. 

Hannah Mary Taylor: I hope they take away how important your friends are. How important it is to be open with your friends and to be there for them in times of need and to have a laugh with them when things aren’t looking so good. 

Lewis Gillon: I hope it encourages men to feel heard and listened to. Too many men suffer in silence because they can’t articulate the weight on their shoulders and would feel judged for doing so. I hope it demonstrates how “manly” being vulnerable is and how impactful a healthy conversation about life with friends can be.

Find The Naked Neds on tour at a theatre near you:
23rd of May: Macrobert Arts Centre (Stirling)
6th & 7th of June: East Kilbride Arts Centre (East Kilbride)
13th of June: Cottiers Theatre (Glasgow)
1st – 9th of August: SpaceUK @Surgeons’ Hall (Edinburgh Fringe)
15th of August: The Lanternhouse at Cumbernauld Theatre (Cumbernauld)
29th of August: Rutherglen Town Hall (Rutherglen)
5th of September: 53two (Manchester)

6th of September: The Little Theatre Cleadon (Sunderland)
13th of September: Beacon Arts Centre (Greenock)
19th of September: Three Villages Hall (Arrochar)

CAST AND CREW 

Paul – Lucian Burlingame 

Jamie – Ingram Noble 

Harry – Aidan Curley 

Tony – Barry Morrell 

Bev – Hannah Mary Taylor 

Cammy – Lewis Gillon 

Writer & Director – Ingram Noble

REVIEW: The Comedy About Spies


Rating: 5 out of 5.

Pun-filled and fun-filled: there are few better ways to spend your evening with this terrifically executed spy romp


Buster Keaton eat your heart out. This slick, fast paced, rapid-fire festival of humour comes at you quicker than an Airplane! gag. 

For a production company that has only existed since 2008, Mischief  have genuinely honed their craft. Henry Lewis and Henry Shields’ script is clever, pun-filled and fun-filled. Bring an inhaler because this show seriously doesn’t let you catch your breath. 

A simple storyline, we follow two Soviet spies and two American spies in 60s London as they try to outsmart each other on a secret mission to obtain certain important documents at the Piccadilly Hotel. Caught up in the melée is a James Bond auditionee and a hapless couple just looking for some respite. An incredible array of in-jokes, historical references and cultural nods pepper the dialogue and physical comedy.

From start to finish I was howling, from the visual puns of quick prop changes and gymnastic slapstick, to the machine-gun speed of verbal riffs, callbacks, clapbacks and punch lines.

Known for their extremely inventive set design, designer David Farley achieves a kinetic energy that means you are always playing visual acrobatics to keep up with the pace of the performers as they constantly use the space at every level. Resembling what can only be an interpretation of the Windows logo, four bedrooms in primary colours are laid out like a 2×2 box for each of the character teams: one for the Soviets, the Americans, the Brits and the auditionee. Beautiful plush art deco touches for the hotel lobby are wistfully rendered to evoke nostalgia as well as practicality. 

The entire cast is sensational, as is to be expected. Standouts for me include Bernard Wright (played by Henry Shields) whose lovelorn British baker is truly the heart of the show. It is a wonderfully nuanced, “straight” performance that cuts through all the humour with charm and courage, giving the audience a baseline breather from the gags.  I was also a fan of Sergei Ivanov (played by Chris Leask) whose faux English accent was clearly borrowed from ‘Allo ‘Allo!. Despite being a Soviet spy, he was endearing and human, with small nods to his wish for friendship amongst the icy reality of the cold war. And finally, a special mention to the maniacal human embodiment of farce that is Douglas Woodbead (played by Henry Lewis). His larger than life character of an actor trying to get the role of James Bond exemplified British comedy and the presentation of the absurd. Combining bombastic physical comedy with wit and pathos in ever more ridiculous set ups is truly a talent Lewis possesses.  A thoroughly modern millennial jester. 

The whole show fizzes, emanating the boundless energy of a child with a sugar rush, but it also has the refinement of Shakespeare and the comic timing of a Marx brother. It’s like Operation Mincemeat and 39 Steps had a secret affair with Cirque du Soleil. The audience could simply not stop laughing; everything was choreographed to within an inch of its life, and the execution of each line was flawless. 

Ultimately, this show does not punch down or go for cheap shots and lazy insults. The jokes are witty, irreverent and maintain silliness with soul. Yes the closing act has more twists and turns than a drive through Milton Keynes but who cares? This show is the most fun you can have this side of the Iron Curtain. Probably the other side, too. 

REVIEW: Nosebleeds


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A Story Poignantly Bleeds the Personal and Political in a War-Torn Identity


Nosebleeds follows the journey of U (Katrine Renee Reoutov), a person who is half Ukraine, half Russian. U guides the audience through fragmented childhood memories—excitement over cakes, meeting friends—while digital calendars flipping through time are projected onto the back wall. As the narrative approaches the 2020s, time slows down, and “coming home” becomes increasingly distant—an irrevocable loss of what was once near and seemingly eternal. The piece poses poignant questions to contemporary audiences: How does war fracture a person’s identity, sense of belonging, and their connection to the world? Do people even care?

The writing is gorgeous—poetic, intimate, genuine, and deeply reflective, with touches of humor. It maintains a rare literary quality, something increasingly scarce in modern theatre. The nosebleed metaphor powerfully embodies war’s dual assault—external violence rupturing the self from within, an internal crisis manifesting in the body’s most intimate circuitry. Like war itself, the bleeding is cyclical, unstoppable: a visceral rebellion of flesh against invisible borders. Blood here is both life and violence, a paradox etched into literary tradition. The recurring link between U’s nosebleeds and their childhood sofa lands with particular force, emphasizing how war’s violence invades even the most private corners of life. While the story examines the Russo-Ukrainian War through a personal lens, this perspective doesn’t diminish its political and emotional gravity. Instead, it adds a layer of intimacy—something often missing in media coverage, which allows us to detach from distant tragedies. 

Katrine Renee Reoutov delivers a performance brimming with energy and clarity. They effortlessly transition between scenes, carrying the show with authenticity and emotional force.

Yet, while the narrative moves fluidly through scenes—weaving together imagery, personal notes, and memories—there is occasional inconsistency in the literary devices used, creating a slightly disjointed experience for the audience. The direction also lacks coherence with the writing. The stage—adorned with a microphone, a wooden stool, a plate of pickled cucumbers, and a plant— was not integrated meaningfully into the storytelling. None of these elements hold dramaturgical significance, nor do they enhance the narrative. While the projections effectively convey the passage of time, displaying dialogue on the wall adds little to the world-building and further burdens an already text-heavy production.

With its literary brilliance and sharp political commentary, Nosebleeds offers an intimate yet piercing glimpse into a life shaped by war. More than a personal account, it challenges modern audiences’ apathy toward global crises. Yet, it also leaves one wondering: Would this story resonate more powerfully on the page than on the stage?

REVIEW: Kim’s Convenience


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

You leave the theatre feeling like you’ve just spent an hour inside someone’s real life, not just a sitcom set. That’s no small feat.


This week at the Oxford Playhouse has seen the warmth and wit of Kim’s Convenience, a play that’s been charming audiences from Toronto to TV screens and is now making its UK tour debut. Written by Ins Choi and directed by Esther Jun, the production is centred around Appa Kim’s small Toronto corner shop—and the family tensions, generational divides, and immigrant experiences that simmer behind the fluorescent lights.

The set was very cleverly used throughout. Mona Camille’s design was impressively detailed—a fully kitted-out convenience store, from stacks of ramen to the ding-dongs that reminded me of entering a konbini in Japan (although don’t let Mr Kim hear me say that). It created a genuine sense of place that the actors moved through naturally, adding texture and realism without ever pulling focus from the performances.

Despite a relatively small cast, each actor brought a lot of personality to their roles. James Yi was instantly lovable as Appa, balancing blustering dad energy with real emotional depth. Daniel Phung’s Jung and Candace Leung’s Umma shared some of the more emotionally resonant moments. Caroline Donica played the exasperated daughter Janet with a convincing blend of frustration, tenderness, and comic timing, grounding the family with a sense of reality and heart. Andrew Gichigi also stood out, deftly juggling four different roles—Alex, Rich, Mr Lee, and Mike—each with distinct personality and delivery. His ability to switch gears so seamlessly added sharp comic value and kept the pace fresh.

There were times when characters switched into Korean for conversations and became a little difficult to follow. This was then not helped by the lack of microphones which in theory helps keep the performance natural and grounded, but in practice meant that some lines—especially in quieter scenes like the church—were lost if you weren’t sitting near the front. A few key exchanges between characters were barely audible, which felt like a missed opportunity to connect more deeply with the material. That being said, even without understanding every word, the emotional gist always landed, giving the audience a more intimate glimpse into the family’s dynamic.

Still, these issues were minor compared to the overall strength of the performances. The cast clicked together with easy chemistry, and the dialogue, even when lost in moments, was full of warmth and razor-sharp timing. 

The show doesn’t overreach—it’s simple, sweet, and often quietly moving. It’s a comfort watch, but not a shallow one. You leave the theatre feeling like you’ve just spent an hour inside someone’s real life, not just a sitcom set. That’s no small feat.

REVIEW: Kontemporary Korea: A Double Bill of K:Dance 


Rating: 5 out of 5.

A Journey Through Motion and Meaning


The Place, Korean Dance Festival 2025

There is something thrilling about watching artists dismantle the familiar and rebuild it into something you have never quite seen before. That is exactly what happened during Kontemporary Korea: A Double Bill of K:Dance, part of this year’s Korean Dance Festival at The Place. It was an evening of razor-sharp concepts, and choreography that made you reflect on the most basic human actions.

The first piece, performed by Ji-hye Chung, took the shape of a dance lecture: minimalist in staging but complex in thought. It focused on walking. That everyday, unconscious act we do without thinking was here pulled apart, examined, and layered with projected visuals and sound design that evoked a hybrid of human anatomy and video game logic. It was a  reimagining of how bipedal movement evolved, and how it might continue to evolve in the age of avatars and augmented reality. It was also  a reminder that every step we take is part instinct, part invention.

After the interval, we entered a different world entirely. 0g, by the Melancholy Dance Company, opened with a solo dancer balancing and toying with an apple. It was playful, subtle, and rich with metaphor. I have seen apples used in performance before (Gandini Juggling comes to mind), but this felt more personal, almost dialogic. The dancer and the apple weren’t props and performer, but co-authors of a strange, abstract language made of part curiosity, part rebellion.

Then came the shift. As other dancers entered the space, the apple was replaced by a human limb, an arm tossed and caught, inspected and responded to, with the innocent wonder of discovering a new language. It made me think of how a first word must have once sounded: raw, uncertain, yet powerful. The movement began to morph, slowly building in complexity until the choreography resembled a morphology of motion: sequences that felt like the grammar and syntax of a body trying to make sense of itself.

What was astonishing was not just the clarity of concept, but the physical brilliance of the dancers. Their bodies became structures, leaning towers, suspended bridges, spirals, a kind of living architecture that bent time and space with every shift in gravity. The lighting design played a vital role here, punctuating beats and gestures, helping to carve out meaning in an otherwise minimalist stage.

The ending of 0g was nothing short of poetic. A new prop, a single shoe , appeared, its lace flung and spun like a thread of thought, seemingly chaotic until it found its own strange orbit. And just as we thought the piece might spiral into absurdity, the lace was cut in half, a clean, deliberate act that left me thinking of a cell dividing, of stories beginning again.

Watching Kontemporary Korea didn’t feel like watching dance, but like encountering a new kind of language, one born from the body, shaped by thought, and steeped in philosophy. These artists don’t just move. They ask questions with their movement, and invite you into the conversation.

To experience K:Dance in London is to take part in a cultural meeting point, a moment where tradition and modernity collide with precision and poetry. The Place continues to be a vital hub for this kind of exchange, and this double bill is a compelling reason to lean in, watch closely, and listen with your whole body.

REVIEW: It’s You Role


Rating: 3 out of 5.

A charming and playful night of Dungeons & Dragons; fantasy storytelling, live improv and audience participation.

It’s Your Role blends fantasy storytelling with live improv, bringing the world of Dungeons & Dragons to the stage as a live recording of the core team’s podcast. Each show features a standalone D&D adventure, complete with dice rolls, offbeat characters, and the twist that one audience member is invited to join the cast and play a main role. A Peckham Fringe show at Canada Water Theatre, the atmosphere both magical and cosy, with floating candles and a warm, tavern aesthetic, and ambient fantasy soundscapes throughout.

The format is simple but effective. A trio of performers drive the story, led by Dungeon Master Ben Welford, who effortlessly shifts between narration and colourful NPCs. Chloe Campbell delivers standout comedic moments, particularly in a recurring joke about impressing “First Mate Susan,” a name randomly drawn from audience suggestions in a delightfully silly naming mechanic.

The energy of the cast was both relaxed and inviting. From the start, the audience is fully engaged, even when the narrative wobbles as the chaos of improvisation takes over. Audience participation makes a strong initial impression. The name-drawing segment creates hilarious encounters, and the inclusion of a guest player adds spontaneity and charm. While the rules of D&D are explained briefly along the way, it is clear that this particular guest player’s familiarity with the game helped the story move more smoothly.

However, the interactive energy does ease off in the second half, as the show leans more into the inside jokes shared by the core cast. This shift sometimes causes the momentum of the story to slow.

The plot is enjoyably absurd, involving a magical teapot and a mummy guarding a legendary cookie recipe. But the heart of the show lies not in the narrative stakes, but in its warmth, humour, and sense of community.

Whether you are a seasoned player or completely new to D&D, It’s Your Role offers a charming and fun evening where embracing the unexpected is part of the adventure.

REVIEW: Simon Boccanegra


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

‘While each individual voice was a joy to listen to, it’s in full voice that this opera truly shines’


I’ll be honest: many people know more about opera than I do. I’m very familiar with Puccini’s one act comic opera Gianni Schicchi, but that’s about the sum of my operatic experience. With this in mind, I was looking forward to Opera North’s take on Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra – a concert staging as opposed to a full production, I thought it would be a good foray into the operatic world.

Performed in Liverpool’s Philharmonic on a swelteringly hot May afternoon, the set for Simon Boccanegra was cool and spare – two of its three ‘rooms’ contained marbled benches and plinths, with the third housing a bed shrouded in white gauze. The whole thing felt evocative of a mausoleum, which it turns out was apt – the body in the bed was revealed to be Maria, erstwhile lover of our titular Simon (played by Roland Wood, with a masterful command over voice and expressions alike), and now dead.

Apparently this opera has by popular opinion a complicated and rather far-fetched plot, the knowledge of which made me feel better as I tried to keep all threads and developments straight throughout. To briefly summarise: Simon Boccanegra (a Plebian) is named Doge (head of state) of Genoa, and has fathered a child with the daughter of his sworn enemy, Jacopo Fiesco (a Patrician). Twenty-five years later, the child has grown up and is in Fiesco’s care, though he has no idea that she is his granddaughter. The young woman, now named Amelia Grimaldi, is herself in love with a Patrician, Gabriele Adorno. There’s a deeply unsettling ‘rival’ for her love in Paolo, once loyal to Simon and latterly a despicable character, and it is his actions that ultimately bring about the deeply sad climax of the opera. At its heart, while this is of course about love – it’s hard to conceive of any great story that isn’t – it’s really about politics, in this case exemplified by the Plebians vs the Patricians: the workers vs nobility is truly a tale which can stand the test of time.

The orchestra was nestled directly behind the set and cast, which gave an intimate feel to the performance – having both good sight and sound of the orchestra allowed for extra punch and depth of feeling. The audience also had a clear view of the singers’ faces, which in turn allowed for a level of sincerity that wasn’t overblown – this is true of all of the cast, but again particular mention must go to Roland Wood as Simon, who was able to convey years’ worth of emotion in mere moments.

Sara Cortolezzis gave an innocent youthfulness to Amelia Grimaldi (or was it Maria? Hmmm…), always hoping that various kinds of love can conquer all. Her lover, Gabriele Adorno (as performed by tenor Andrés Presno), was rather more one-note a character, but had a pleasingly strong and clear voice, a much-needed contrast to the richness of the baritones and basses. The chorus was used offstage to great effect: haunting voices drift through as though on the wind, with our cast seemingly confused and afraid as to where they are coming from. The voices of the angry mob came in turn from various points from different directions within the hall, sometimes sidestage and sometimes behind us, giving a still more immersive feel to the production.

While each individual voice was a joy to listen to, it’s in full voice that this opera truly shines, and the Philharmonic was just the building to house such a glorious climax of voices and instruments, allowing the sound to rise uncurtailed to ring throughout the venue. My biggest complaint is that there wasn’t a little more of this, though there’s an argument to be made that less sparing use might detract from its magical effect. 

Opera North’s Simon Boccanegra is showing in Hull on May 17th, and in London on May 24th.

REVIEW: Dear Annie, I Hate You


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: The Girl on the Train


Rating: 3 out of 5.

“A moody psychological thriller based on the bestseller, elevated by immersive staging and atmosphere.”


Having read the novel and seen the film a long time ago, I entered the theatre with only a vague memory of the plot. I knew there was a twist but couldn’t recall what it was exactly, which felt like an ideal way to approach a mystery play. Though not directly comparable, if you enjoyed 2:22, this production might also appeal to you. Set in a British city and driven by the mystery’s tension, it delivers a similar dramatic unease.

The production’s greatest strength lies in its dynamic set design. Clever use of lighting and sound created a brooding, rain-soaked atmosphere that reflected Rachel’s troubled inner world. The backdrop of continuous rainfall added to the mood and helped anchor scenes visually. Rather than feeling abstract, the scenes of the train were surprisingly immersive. The final scenes ramped up the suspense, and I found myself invested in who would survive the climax.

Louisa Lytton as Rachel gave a committed performance, but at times the script made it hard to fully empathise with her. The character’s unreliability, due to both memory lapses and alcohol use, was central to the mystery but something which I found frustrating. The ‘whodunnit’ element repeatedly hinged on Rachel recalling the events of a single night, which began to feel overly repetitive. Her memories would shift or prove confused, and while that may be realistic, it limited the audience’s ability to piece together clues, as so much rested on information that wasn’t available until Rachel could recall it.

There were also moments of confusion in tone. Occasionally, lines received unexpected laughter from the audience. Yet the cast continued without pausing for laughs, leaving me unsure whether these moments were intentionally humorous or not. The smoke machine was overused and towards the end, it became excessive. At one point, the smoke obscured the stage and even spilled into the audience area, creating a distracting fog that felt more accidental than intentional.

Despite these issues, the show had its gripping moments. It succeeded in building tension and one thing I particularly appreciated was how easy the storyline was to follow. For a psychological thriller, it maintained clarity without oversimplifying, making it accessible without losing intrigue. I’ve found myself really enjoying this genre on stage, it offers an engaging, relatively easy watch that still gives you something to discuss with friends afterwards. I would like to revisit the novel, if only to compare what was kept and what was changed for the stage.

While the title might suggest a story heavily grounded in train journeys, the story is only loosely tethered to that setting. Nevertheless, for fans of psychological thrillers and stage adaptations, The Girl on the Train offers a moody, intriguing evening at the theatre.

The Girl on the Train plays at the Liverpool Everyman until 17th May. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: An Adequate Abridgement of Boarding School Life as a Homo

Meet Johnny, 18 and in his final year of boarding school. He ambles through daily life, Britney in his ears, failing to fit into the school’s (rather rigid) mould. Enter Harry, the rugby golden boy. To save time, Johnny and Harry shag. Constantly. This isn’t a coming out story or a gay tragedy and it is definitely not porn. It is life through the lens of a young queer man, navigating Grindr, hyper-masculinity and an institution rife with shame. We sat down with the team from An Adequate Abridgement of Boarding School Life as a Homo to discuss the production.


After last year’s Bobby Award-winning Fringe run, how did returning to the show for this tour shift your perspective on the story you’re telling?

I don’t think our mindset shifted too much to be honest, we don’t tend to overthink things and we’re quite a go with the flow team. We had so much fun at the fringe, but it just went so quickly and so we were all pretty dead set on bringing the show back, we felt it had more to give and wanted to get in front of more audiences. That being said it has been so much fun bringing in Harvey Weed to play the role of Harry & Others and quite organically, the show has developed around his style of comedy and take on the character. Meg, one of our directors and the team building our set have also been getting very creative with new design ideas for the show and we’ve got Kitty our choreographer coming back in to teach us some new dance moves, I’m hoping this time I can get all the steps right! So it will definitely be a new version of the show, but with all the original themes and overall sentiment.

If you could add one more iconic pop star to guide Johnny through boarding school life alongside Britney, who would it be and why?

Ooooo big question – early Madonna! Songs like ‘Like a Virgin’ and ‘Like a Prayer’ definitely have a big overlap with the show’s themes of religion and queer rebellion, would have really loved to lean into some good old Catholic suppression. It was a close call between Britney and Madonna, we just didn’t have the budget for an authentic cone bra and Britney had a bit more scope for choreographed teenage intimacy that didn’t involve too much graphic detail. You could also make a good case for JoJo Siwa for very similar reasons to the above. 

How do you balance the raw vulnerability of queer shame with the show’s irreverent humour without diluting either element?

I think by trying to really stay true to both, the comedy and the more vulnerable bits. It was definitely nice to have a bit of reassurance that audiences agreed with what our team thought was funny, a lot of it is situational comedy, lots of it is great multi-rolling and comedic timing by Will (our previous Harry & Others) and Harvey (our current), and some of it is expert choreo to a Britney soundtrack. But the comedy in the play is more often than not a bit of a defensive mechanism and Johnny’s way of coping through school, and I think that’s the experience of a lot of queer people at school. For me I turned to female comedians like Miranda and used that kind of camp silly humour to try and show that I didn’t take myself too seriously. We don’t try and expose humour as a shallow way of dealing with insecurity nor do we try and trap audiences into an hour of gay tragedy with a few “that’s gay” jokes. We try and play true to the joy of someone who finds their way through growing up through humour but also exploring that it can be quite painful to be laughed at, especially at school and especially when you’re queer. 

In what ways did the boarding school setting help you amplify the tension between conformity and identity, especially for a queer protagonist?

Boarding School is just quite a blatant symbol of repression in this country, it’s quite low-hanging fruit really. There have been so many portrayals of boarding school in the media, and our take was building the setting around the queer character, it’s his world and he dictates to the audience how he sees it. The tension comes from when the school starts fighting back against Johnny and the narrative gets taken out of his hands. Most of the multi-rolling characters that Harvey does are various representations of the school, lots of them are comedic and some of them are that bit more oppressive, and so the things outside of Johnny’s control like those other characters are what creates the internal conflict for Johnny by the end of the play.

How do you hope audiences with no experience of queer identity—or boarding school—connect with Johnny’s journey?

I hope people trust the journey a little bit. We’re quite obvert with the set up and the context of where the story takes place (it’s mostly all in the name of the show), but in doing that it allows us to really focus in on a queer narrative, one that avoids queer baiting tropes and is mostly grounded in coming to terms with identity at an early age, that’s what we’re interested in exploring and what we hope audiences can relate to.

With a new audience in London and an upcoming return to the Fringe, have you adapted the show in response to different cultural or generational reactions?

The script is often subject to a bit of change. There is one part of the script (no spoilers) that is a lot about shame, and we just keep changing it and redrafting it because so many of the chats we’ve had with audiences, or messages we’ve got, even a letter that someone sent to us after fringe, were about the character’s experience of shame. This part of the script is new and I think the reason we keep redrafting it is because we don’t want to it to be too poetic or self-reflective, but instead show the same to be truthful and appear in real time, we want it to hit home for audiences because it’s a cross generational feeling. We’re nearly there with it and I think it will be a worthwhile adaptation. 

Tickets are available here for London 21st – 25th May and here for Manchester 30th and 31st May.