“Fresh from a sell-out run in London, this Fringe transfer had the Assembly Ballroom on George Street packed out with an audience laughing from start to finish.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

If there’s one thing us Brits do well it’s political satire and this already critically acclaimed hit did not disappoint. Fresh from a sell-out run in London, this Fringe transfer had the Assembly Ballroom on George Street packed out with an audience laughing from start to finish. This slick production from Bill Kenwright and Turbine Creatives lifts the lid on the whirlwind political career of Dominic Cummings, leaving no stone unturned in the process.

Just for the record, the citizens of Barnard Castle and the employees at their local branch of Specsavers can rest easy; very early on in the show, Dom grudgingly acknowledges his infamous trip to the Teesdale town to get his eyes tested. With that safely out of the way, Dom narrates his rise to, and abrupt fall from, the Westminster merry-go-round. Chris Porter plays the title role with an assured, cynical ferocity. Cummings was never a likeable figure, but Porter raises laugh after laugh from the audience in the opening ten minutes as he reveals the dark arts of data-scraping that drove his campaigns for Vote Leave and the 2019 General Election. The scene well and truly set, there was soon a roar of recognition from the audience as Boris Johnson strode on in the shape of Tim Hudson – every inch the blustering nincompoop, from his mop of unkempt blonde hair to his flapping shirt tails. All other incidental roles were entertainingly played by Thom Tuck and Sarah Lawrie. Tuck’s mimicry of a moon-faced Michael Gove drew chuckles of recognition, whilst the mobile eyebrows of his John Prescott were an amusing reminder of what already seems like a prehistoric age in British politics. Lawrie was no less versatile, with her lightning vignettes as the late Queen and Theresa May, but the greatest howls of laughter from the Edinburgh audience came with her vivid evocation of a diminutive Nicola Sturgeon.

Over the next hour, the turbulent years of recent British political history are brilliantly portrayed as the Westminster farce they so often seemed back in the day. With a quickfire pasquinade of merciless caricatures, our political masters are lampooned and ridiculed. Like an oversized, Woosterish ringmaster, the buffoonish Johnson flails desperately to keep his government on track at the centre of things; whilst to one side of the stage, lurks Cummings, the Machiavellian puppet-master and the PM’s Svengali. It’s an amazing tradition in British political satire how much we can afterwards laugh at events that once seemed so traumatic. But laugh we did, though I can only agree with one lady behind me who chuckled to her partner over the rapturous applause at the end; “It didn’t seem quite as funny as that the time, did it?”

This show is running for the rest of the month, but I wouldn’t hang about if you want to go; I’d say it’s one of the hot tickets for this year’s Fringe. So, whether you’re from Barnard Castle or not, get your coats on and go see it! Go for the political satire. Stay to hear Cummings explain the dark arts of psephological data mining. Leave in the hope that the great British voting public will never allow itself to be fooled again.