Much as if I’d been with real-life evangelists, I imagine, I left this show wondering what on earth had just happened.
This is a uniquely off-the-wall cabaret
Framed as a “talk” on the healing powers of percussion, also known as “tuneless ejaculation,” (also known as music) the show begins with a pair dressed in grey tweed and yellow shirts who stand before us, brimming with earnestness and awkwardness. Meet Hubert and his sister/wife Eunace, who are here to save us. Fiona Creese and Nick Tibb absolutely sell the characters here, with very funny facial expressions of deadpan conviction. They commence bizarre song and dance routines until there is an absurd interruption by a third character.
It is here we realise the show is not exactly what it purports it will be; something sinister and weird is happening in the background. Despite this, Hubert and Eunace pick up where they left off and return to another “sharing” – that is, a healing musical number.
The character who has interrupted before returns and we now realise that she is a surgeon (Nicola Blackwell) – but this is no ordinary hospital.
This is a uniquely off-the-wall cabaret, including parodies of popular songs with ukulele accompaniment, badgers, an explanation of the austerity measures using cheese and a Latin music soundtrack, puppet psychiatrists commenting on the show, and finally, a creepy Elvis.
Creese, Tibb and Blackwell, who together as Slot Machine Theatre wrote and directed the piece, have a lot of fun with it. All are talented performers with a finely attuned sense of comedic timing and good physicality. Creese’s comedic contemporary dance routines, sometimes wild, sometimes hilariously wooden, absolutely stole the show.
There are many hilarious moments, but the highlight for me was a synchronised dance number, performed by the trio on razor scooters. If you like your humour odd, then this is the show for you.
