‘Lydia Bennett Works In Finance’ (Ivy Studio in Greenside @ George Street, until AUG 23 – not AUG 10 or 17)

“Laugh-out-loud lines such as ‘He couldn’t find my clit if he used a flashlight and a bloodhound!’ are an indicator that this play is not suitable for GCSE revision. “

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Fans of classic fiction will recognise the name of the eponymous heroine of this acerbically funny comedy as the youngest of the five sisters in Jane Austen’s masterpiece Pride and Prejudice. In this sassily updated reinvention, writer and performer Trelawny Kean presents us with a feisty present-day version of Lydia as a high-maintenance drama queen who finds herself homeless and unemployed after walking out on George Wickham.

In the source novel, Lydia is described as “silly, vain, and absolutely uncontrolled” as well as “wild, noisy and fearless”. The modern Lydia presented by Kean is very much in this mould, but don’t worry if you’re not familiar with the book. The pacy style of the show could be described as something along the lines of Jane Austen meets Bridget Jones and is very enjoyable on its own terms as a comic account of the life of a modern girl who always seems to be a footnote in someone else’s love story.

The second half of the show’s title helps to emphasise the production’s contemporary vibe by echoing the song (I’m Looking For A) Man In Finance by Girl On A Couch (Megan Boni) which was a viral TikTok hit in summer 2024. An engaging juxtaposition of past and present is loudly evoked as Lydia in 2024 plays the song on her phone and Kean energetically gyrates to the amplified beat; the modern lyrics reflecting Austen’s 200 year-old concerns about single women who complain about their relationship status whilst having unrealistic expectations of men.

Performed single-handedly with two giant suitcases and their contents as set, props, and costume, Kean makes ideal casting for a one-woman show in the intimate black-box Ivy Studio in Greenside @ George Street. Seen at close quarters, her comically mobile face vividly conveys expressions ranging from manic frustration to Machiavellian cunning as the needy Lydia attempts to manipulate family and friends via her ever-present mobile phone.

There are laughs a-plenty in the dialogue, though it’s worth noting that the age guideline is 16+. Laugh-out-loud lines such as “He couldn’t find my clit if he used a flashlight and a bloodhound!” are an indicator that this play is not suitable for GCSE revision.

This is an absolute gem of a show that will be running for most of this month, but seating in this small studio venue is limited, so book early.

 


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‘Fly, You Fools!’ (Beyond @ Pleasance Courtyard, until AUG 25 – not AUG 7 or 18)

“As an obvious spoof (of Lord of the Rings), the melodramatic action and pastiche dialogue presented by the cast draw gales of laughter from the audience.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Hot on the heels of Hold On To Your Butts at the same venue (see my earlier review) the New York-based theatre company Recent Cutbacks have another hit on their hands with a matching piece of comic theatrical spoofery of a relatively recent movie classic, Lord of the Rings.

Once again, the company presents a fast-paced “lo-fi” scene-for-scene parody, this time of Peter Jackson’s blockbuster, performed by a small troupe of three actors making frantic use of DIY props, back projection, shadow puppetry, mime, and knockabout physical theatre to create a hilarious take on the epic fantasy adventure. The comic mayhem is enhanced by an on-stage Foley Artist (that’s a Hollywood term for a sound-effects creator) who sits at a desk stage right with a laptop, a microphone, and a huge selection of musical instruments, sandboxes, crinkly paper, a cutlery drawer, and other assorted noise-making thingumajigs with which to enhance the tomfoolery.

The company create a vivid sense of the gothic sword-and-sorcery ambience of the movie as a backdrop to their merciless satire of the Tokien universe. The opportunities for parody are particularly good verbally as well as visually in this show, with much tongue-in-cheek pastiche of the portentous tone of Tolkien’s language and the apocalyptic register in which his lines are delivered by some of the grandiose actors who play his characters: yes, I mean you, Sir Ian McKellen (think: “Morrr-dorrr!”). Fans of the film will revel in recognising the parodic spoofs of key scenes, whist those unfamiliar with the source work and even young children (Over 8s) will enjoy the knockabout action and silly posturing of actors doing comic impressions of orcs, elves, dwarves, and wizards.
As an obvious spoof, the melodramatic action and pastiche dialogue presented by the cast draw gales of laughter from the audience. But it occurred to me whilst watching the show, that the sheer inventiveness of the physical theatre and the imaginative use of mime and suggestion by the cast – even if done straight-faced – could well have brought a theatrical adaptation of the book to the stage 40 years ago, when such a thing was thought impossible. However, there is nothing straight-faced about this laugh-out-loud romp through Middle Earth – I’ll never be able to read the novel again without giggling.

Like its co-production Hold On To Your Butts, this show runs at the Pleasance Courtyard (though in the Pleasance Beyond auditorium) until 25th August (not 7th or 18th), so book early as I suspect it will be yet another of the hottest tickets in town.

 


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‘Tricky Teddy’s Mischief and Magic Show’ (Bedfringe, 26 July 2025)

“The duo’s caustic stage partnership has notes of Martin and Lewis at their most dysfunctional.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Krisgar is one of Bedford’s best, best-known, and best-loved children’s entertainers, and there’s a reason – he’s really good. There’s a big crowd in this afternoon, and for all the noise and barely stifled chaos, a loud buzz of excited expectation. Within moments of taking the stage, our attention is rapt like a gift going through Rowan Atkinson’s bit in ‘Love Actually’ when Alan Rickman’s in a hurry. Krisgar’s commanding onstage presence is a product of his comic rapport with the irrepressible Tricky Teddy. The duo’s caustic stage partnership has notes of Martin and Lewis at their most dysfunctional.

At 7 years, Daughter 2.0 is not at all too auld for this level of properly funny silliness. In her notebook, the one with Wizbit on the cover what I paid crazy money for on eBay, she wrote: “Tricky teedys mischief and magic show was really funny. when I walked in I saw a chair on the stage and I heard loud music. I saw a table for mdgice tricks and comedy. And during the show I saw a puppet which was a teedy and I saw a magic magishon. My favroute bit was when they tried to make cake but didn’t have the ingediants. The part which made me laugh the loudest was when the puppet said we are here for the cash! I hope I remember the part when they did tricks forever.”

Here is quality family entertainment worth getting excited about. Here are some properly memorable silly bits, one properly jaw-dropping-OK-seriously-HOW-did-he-do-that? bit, as well as multiple moments of spontaneous joy. Get your magic coats on and go see this!


Reviewer: Dan Lentell

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‘Mitch Benn: The Lehrer Effect’ (Venue 302, until AUG 25th)

“It’s a fast-paced, blend of showmanship and showcasing that is, most importantly, properly entertaining and worthy of its august subject.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Mitch Benn should be made to stand in the arrivals hall at Heathrow, Gatwick, or Turnhouse and welcome people into the country. He is a national treasure forged in the Bedlamic crucible of Edinburgh in and beyond the Fringe. His voice is possibly probably the finest vocal instrument this side of Brian Blessed. As one of the two most admired comic songsters of the current age, who better than Benn to deliver a 60-minute lecture on the wonder and wonderosity of the late, great Tom Lehrer?* Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq., perhaps, but Bedford’s own was too busy elbowing your not especially humble correspondent in the ribs and making shushing noises during all my best singing along – like he was Maturin meeting Aubrey.

*Leher was the latter, but not quite yet the former when the curtain went up on the night of 26 July at Bedfringe.

Articulate, intellectual, sceptical, musical. If you need to be sold on Tom Leher there’s a chance you cannot be redeemed for a pocket full of winning lottery tickets. Have you been living under a rock since 1944 – when Lehrer first put notes to paper with his “The Subway Song”? HCCKKCC PW if you didn’t know that or that there have been 16 new elements discavard since 1959.

This is a show that rests on zero laurels, Benn’s or Lehrer’s. It’s a fast-paced, blend of showmanship and showcasing that is, most importantly, properly entertaining and worthy of its august subject. Here’s a show that has ‘regular retirement cruise ship gig’ written all over it. Lehrer recently placed all of his songs in the public domain, so we can expect a tribute act or three down the line. Will they have this pace, this energy, this level of insight? Glass coffin / remains to be seen.

Come for the nostalgia. Stay for the freshness. Get your leather elbow-patched coats on and go see this!

 


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‘OH OH’ (Venue 300, until AUG 25th)

“What this duo deliver is a compelling blend of slapstick humour and impressive, effortlessly-executed acrobatics as the duo play games, skip rope and dance.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

Edinburgh’s Festival Fringe is not a quiet place. It’s loud, brash and in your face. Circus shows, in particular, often arrive in town in an explosion of sequins, feathers and graphic content warnings. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I love the pizzazz of it all. And I like to be a little shocked on occasion, it keeps me on my toes.

Compagnia Baccalà’s OH OH takes a different tack. This show is billed as a ‘joyful combination of acrobatics and slapstick’ that harks back to the silent movie era. There are no content warnings here.

I was pleased to spot it in the listings. Some years ago, I saw Baccalà’s Chaplinesque PSS PSS in a small-ish venue at the Fringe. It was an absolute delight of a show and one I often think of when asked about my Fringe favourites over the years.

I was far from alone in loving PSS PSS, so it came as no surprise that they’re now in a bigger venue than when I last saw them – the iconic Udderbelly in George Square Gardens (for the uninitiated; a giant purple tent in the shape of an upside-down cow.) OH OH begins with a spotlight on a sleeping clown, Simone Fassari, the stage otherwise dark and empty. A rope ladder appears from above, and his companion, Camille Pessi, descends to wake him.

These are not modern, red-nosed clown stereotypes. Simone is in relatively subdued attire of shirt, trousers, braces – a shabby chic, Buster Keaton sort of a look. Camille is more vivacious, pixie-like in striped top and tights, flouncing red velvet skirt and shorts, and gravity-defying curly pigtails. While he is hangdog, bemused and (at least initially) slightly downbeat, she is wide-eyed and sparky, her highly expressive face cycling rapidly through curiosity, amusement and pure mischief.

OH OH is a wordless performance, with occasional music effectively used to set the tone as it shifts from exuberant play to fleeting melancholy and back again. There’s little peril in their antics – don’t expect the ‘death-defying’ tricks you might see elsewhere at the Fringe – what this duo deliver is a compelling blend of slapstick humour and impressive, effortlessly-executed acrobatics as the duo play games, skip rope and dance.

Camille is often the scene-stealer, whether clambering through the audience to catch a ball or navigating the rope ladder while playing an accordion – without missing a note. Simone, however, gets some of the biggest laughs as he pivots between irritation and amusement at his show-off companion. They have a competitive, occasionally antagonistic relationship – but there is no heat in their squabbling. Where conflicts bubble up they are quickly resolved and the games begin again.

If I had any concerns that OH OH couldn’t live up to PSS PSS they were quickly dispelled. There’s no radical departure here, the two shows are similar in their timeless look and feel, but that familiarity is very welcome in this case. OH OH is warm, engaging and utterly charming. The audience, of all ages, loved it and the majority gave the duo a standing ovation; a prize not always easily won at the Fringe.

Get your coats on and go see this!

 


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‘At Home With Will Shakespeare’ (Venue 33, until AUG 26th)

“Not since the age of Allan Ramsay has Edinburgh enjoyed portraiture of such soaring humility and intimate majesty.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

I’m standing in the queue for the lavies after the show. It’s a long and slow-moving wait. Behind me another Pip Utton mega fan is waxing lyrical on the master’s stage presence, his timing, his audience work, his gift for telling big stories with little touches. It was a much better review than the one you’re about to read.

We enter to find Mr Shakespeare is recovering from the night before. This is not a specific moment in the Bard’s life. It’s one of those out of time and space encounters which are the signature of the Utton canon. Over the coming hour we will explore Shakespeare’s triumphs, examine his tragedies, extirpate some myths, and excite the green-eyed monster jealousies which (still) pettily peep out from the shadow cast by this huge-legged colossus not of an age but for all time.

Plays about Shakespeare are ten a penny. In fact, there are probably more of them staged at any given EdFringe than actual revivals of the words what he wrote. Who was this man of inky glory? What powered his genius? There are more potential questions with more possible answers than there are moves on a chessboard. It takes a grounded hubris to attempt to scale the towering heights of Shakespeare. It takes the eye of an Olympian climber to identify the swiftest, but surest route up in the time allowed. It takes nimbleness, subtly, and strength to arrive with time enough to spare so as to enjoy the view.

Utton gets Shakespeare the grafter because no other actor grafts like Utton. Utton comprehends Shakespeare the crafter because no other theatrical producer is so reliable in the quality of their craft as Utton. Utton lauds Shakespeare with the gentle, self-mocking laughter of one who has similarly reached the top and managed to stay there.

Nicola Fleming’s direction is fluid, lucid, and candid. Here is the show which comes closest to recovering what was lost when the late, great Rodney Bewes took his final curtain call. Bewes was the gourmet master of the EdFringe potboiler solo show. His genius was to make each performance come alive with an offhand delivery that sent the ball wheezing over the boundary line for six time and again. Utton is similarly loved by his audience and, as I am reminded in the queue for the loos, that relationship is deepening with each successive success.

Not since the age of Allan Ramsay has Edinburgh enjoyed portraiture of such soaring humility and intimate majesty. Not having Pip Utton at an EdFringe is like not having whisky cream sauce on your haggis – it is possible, but the best festival there is or ever was is just better with the work of Pip Utton featuring in the line-up.

Get your doublets on and go see this!


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‘Sh!t-faced Shakespeare®: Much Ado About Nothing’ (Venue 150, until AUG 25th)

“There’s nothing highbrow about this production. The premise is simple, and (literally) intoxicating.”

Editorial Rating:5 Stars (Outstanding)

I want to like Shakespeare. He can spin a good yarn, no argument from me there. And I’m Scottish, so having a vague fondness for MacBeth is hardwired. I like a bit of Romeo and Juliet too – but I prefer West Side Story. I like it all dumbed down a little, I suppose. The language barrier is the main issue for me. I get lost in the wherefores and the hithertos, and not in a good way. Pure, undiluted Shakespeare just feels like school to me. I expect to be quizzed on my understanding of it later, and I expect to fail.

So, Shakespeare is rarely on my theatrical hitlist, if I’m honest. But Sh!t-faced Shakespeare is a bit different. There’s nothing highbrow about this production. The premise is simple, and (literally) intoxicating. Each night, one member of a classically-trained cast gets somewhat inebriated before taking the stage. Chaos ensues.

Edinburgh regulars may well be familiar with the concept. Sh!t-faced Shakespeare has been a Fringe stalwart for some years now, and is proudly billed as a “five-star, multi sell-out Fringe phenomenon”. This year, the team have brought Much Ado About Nothing to town, and on the night I attended it was Benedick who’d had a few. Compère Jess, in top hat and sequins, steered the show along, on occasion halting the proceedings with the blast of an air horn to remind the errant thespian of the second rule of Sh!tfaced Shakespeare – don’t mess with the set – and indeed on one occasion to disentangle him from a trellis. She also issued audience members with a tambourine and a gong, with instructions to deploy them to signal that Benedick’s drink might need topped up. Which they gleefully did.

If all of this sounds a bit like an adult pantomime to you, you’re not far wrong. The overblown humour, the posturing, the knowing nods to the audience – many of whom are clearly regular attendees – all set quite a familiar tone. (To British audiences at least – I’m not sure that panto is really much of a thing elsewhere.) The set, too, is reminiscent of the local pantos of my youth. Much less minimalist than your average Fringe show, the scenery looks hand-painted, a cheery, cartoonish backdrop to the tale’s Messina setting. The costume design is traditional, to a point. While the classic period costumes would likely not look out of place on an RSC stage, the exaggerated cod-pieces might.

The sober cast members’ traditional acting skills were also apparent, though quickly overshadowed by adept improv as they reacted to the antics of an increasingly lairy Benedick. The play moved along at pace, if not in the direction its author intended. The plot, after all, is all but incidental and no two performances will be the same. Did it wholly live up to its ‘Fringe phenomenon’ promise on the night? Probably not – some of the more puerile gags elicited more of an eye-roll than a genuine laugh – but it was anarchic, sweary fun. And the audience was along for the ride, the front rows whooping as Benedick kicked his (plastic) empties in their direction.

True Shakespeare purists will hate this show. Please stay away. Shield your eyes, it’s not for you. The rest of you will probably have a grand old time – if you’re in the mood for something unabashedly silly. Get your doublets on and go see this!


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‘Tweedy’s Massive Circus’ (Venue 360, until Aug 21)

“A riot of perfectly pitched clowning.”

Editorial Rating:  5 Stars (Outstanding)

Our latest Fringe adventure was off to the smaller of the two big top in the Meadows. Tweedy is a well-kent face. Giffords, the famous circus, has been Tweedy’s home for well over a decade but now he has struck out on his own with Tweedy’s Massive Circus.

Massive is the right word because for Tweedy really is a giant of this world. He’s created is own circus – which the audience gleefully taunts him it being tiny with whenever he says it is massive. His massive/tiny circus (delete as appropriate) has landed at the Fringe.

Tweedy is the sun around which everything revolves but the rest of the cast are a talented bunch. Sam, Reuben and Lulu (who is constantly teased for being a terrible actress) and Tweedy’s nemesis, and funder, Madame La Reine (latterly Madame Latrine and Madame Lasgna). Sam, in particular, manages to steal some of the scenes but this is the Tweedy show. He really is a clown at the top of his game. It takes years of practice to look this shambolic.

My youngest, 8, loved every minute it of it; hooting with delight and at points doubled over with laughter. From the moment Tweedy came out in a tiny car, through tight-rope walking, vegan vampires, plate spinning, toilet humour, ladder play, dinosaur aerialists, and juggling.A riot of perfectly pitched clowning. He has the audience in the palm of his hand and as well as the ”tiny” teasing he has numerous lines that the crowd get behind as if a pantomime as popped into the summer sun. Oh no it hasn’t!

The story is simple: Tweedy has convinced Madame La Reine (latterly Latrine and Lasagna) to finance his massive circus and, whenever she appears, he manages to make some catastrophic error. She wants a world-class circus of the golden age. Tweedy has delivered something different. Of course, each failure is funnier than the last.

Tweedy is so good you never know if he is vibing or if it is scripted. It is an odd mix of high-level clowning and outright anarchy. The cast are forever trying to make the others laugh with adlibs or outright corpsing. There was one moment when Tweedy manages to suspend himself by the groin and he yelped in what seemed like genuine pain… I’ll never known if it was planned or not.

Many of these kids shows appeal to 5 year olds and – honestly – parents are checking the football scores. This is good, old-fashioned family fun. Everyone is laughing. Yes. It is silly. Yes. It is rude. Yes. It is puerile. Yes. It is slapstick. Which is, as they say in France, le sodding point.

As every great clown knows: no one – literally no one – wants plates spinning to stay up. We all want the Emma Bridgewater stuff smashed. An raucous, hour of bonkers delight. This is what clowning should be… which brings me to my slight negative was there was (on the day I went) no custard pies.

Go for the clowns, stay for the support cast. Get your coats on and see this.

‘Window Seat’ (Venue 29, until AUG 24th)

“As Trix, Helen Rose Hampton puts the slightest of American spins on this very English two-handeer.”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars (Outstanding)

“It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the phrase, ‘as pretty as an airport. ‘ Airports are ugly. Some are very ugly. Some attain a degree of ugliness that can only be the result of a special effort.” Air travel is neither glamorous nor relaxing. It’s an endurance test – travelling with family doubly so.

Cleopatra Coleman’s script features a mother and daughter grounded on a flight to Florence. The contrast between the romance of the intended destination and the utilitarian claustrophobia of the present is the first of several carefully choreographed juxtapositions which keep this thoughtful and elegant script briskly moving even as not a lot of anything actually happens. Trix, the mother, has a past she wants to share. Like the Via di Francesco that she once traversed, this journey into her past will open up new vistas and perspectives of understanding for her daughter, Lois, who is struggling with the inertia of life post-graduation.

As Trix, Helen Rose Hampton puts the slightest of American spins on this very English two-handeer. Rose Hampton inhabits the part honestly and sincerely. Her authenticity is the confident choice of a classical dab hand and the key that unlocks the depths of this smart funny drama. Coleman’s direction is to still but not to silence Trix’s Eddie and Patsy incline. Instead, the focus is kept on the character’s abiding maternal bond rather than milking her bold and brassy personality for easy laughs.

As Lois, Maud May is an ideal counterweight. She’s equally poised and self-possessed. It’s the carefully curated contrasts which make Trix and Lois’ similarities shine through with the crystal clarity of dawn’s first light caressing the Arno. Louis could have been presented as a brattish nag. May does something smarter, picking up and picking out her character’s qualities, many of which (we can assume) have been natured or nurtured from Trix.

There is conflict. There is tension. There is uncertainty. There are geese on the runway. Here is a cracking script crackling with craic. It’s storytelling done right. An auld skool kitchen sink drama cross-checked by a one plus one equals five performance by two assured and assuredly most talented actors. Cleopatra Coleman is cleared for take off as a writer to watch out for.

Get your raincoats on (there’s a thunderstorm predicted for Tuscany today) and go see this!


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‘Doktor Kaboom: Man of Science!’ (Venue 33, until AUG 26th)

“It is hilarious!!! I hope that I will be able to go every singe fringe.”

Editorial Rating: 7 out of 5 Stars (Outstanding)

A year ago, and for only the second time in our history, GetYourCoatsOn crowned ‘Doktor Kaboom: Man of Science!’ with a 7 (out of 5) star rating. I wrote that, “Doktor Kaboom is enlightening Scotland’s capital with a show that promotes learning for learning’s sake and which demonstrates that science done proper is really, really fun. To the mix he’s added an essential and urgent parabasis about how vulnerable our kids’ mental health is and what can be done to strengthen it.”

So is this latest instalment equally groundbreaking, breathtaking, and memory-making? SPOILER ALERT! Yes, this is an act that is getting better, but no less bonkers, with age. If anything the opportunity to encounter so many young minds on tour across the US and further afield has underscored Herr Doktor’s sense of urgency about his mission.

Lockdown hurt. It hurt our pockets, it hurt our sociability, it hurt our kids. In the buildings around George Square and elsewhere, historians will debate the rights and wrongs, the pluses and the minuses of Lockdown. The future, as Prof. Tom Devine likes to quip, is not my area of expertise. What matters now is the present, and there is a clear and present danger that the impact of Lockdown on our kids is being globally underestimated. Their confidence in themselves is not what is was or what it could be. Enter Doktor Kaboom the greatest comic creation since Professor Proton.

Some of the demonstrations are familiar – the makeshift hovercraft made out of an auld poker table ridden by a kid holding the most powerful electric leafblower money can buy remains the absolute crowd-pleasing favourite. It’s the pickle light bulb that reduces Granny to a helpless heap, she hasn’t laughed so hard since the ‘Wonkey Donkey’ viral incident of ‘14. On the cab ride home she keeps muttering, “Want more light? Add more pickles!” and she’s off again.

In her EdFringe24 notebook, the one with an etching of David Hume and Benjamin Franklin walking up Arthur’s Seat on the cover, Daughter 1.0 (9yrs) wrote: “I went to Doktor Kaboom at eh edfringe we went there last time and had soooo mutch fun and this time it was even better!! I loved seeing the hover craft zooom across the stage and seeing a pickle-powered Light-bulb and failed-pie-tin-alien-invashion! But one of my favourite bits was seeing his head getting bigger and smaller when our brains play a trick on us. It is hilarious!!! I hope that I will be able to go every singe fringe.”

There is (still) no escaping the boorish charm, the refined mayhem, the high nutritional value of this brain-smart and heart-healthy show. If this production were a number it would be 73 “The Chuck Norris of Numbers?” “Ha! Chuck Norris wishes.” Do I miss the Wheel of Even More Science? Yes. Is one essential prop not set? Sure. Are there fewer demonstrations and is one slightly dampened by braided hair? A little. However, this to the gunnels packed hour remains the gold-pressed latinum standard before all which other kids shows must bow, tremble, and scrape. Ya? Ya!

Get your white tie and tailcoats on and go see this show deserving of a Nobel Prize in science education.


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