It may be made of the stuff of toilets, but Loo Roll is definitely not poop.
With every strewn item the bin – some predictable such as dog poo and old potatoes; others less so, like a blood-stained high vis jacket – comes a corresponding character. It’s not just dopey Pat that Bond tries her comedy hand at: Loo Roll becomes a tapestry of many unique personas, all played with consistency and conviction.
Bond shines as Tabby Crab, the mentor-come-cult-leader who has the ability to read the invisible stories that loo paper apparently holds. The narrative holes, e.g. when, how and why she was left in the bin, which you think would be irrevocable omissions, are made up for by Bond’s unmitigated charm and quick-wittedness. She engages audience members in the story in a purposeful way that always comes with an improvised dose of hilarity.
With deftness and a commendable ability to retain a lightness of tone, Bond weaves in themes of abandonment and inclusion; she highlights how much the extent to which we are/aren’t thought of can impact a person’s self-worth and sense of purpose. It’s rare to get people laughing to the point of crying whilst simultaneously spreading a sense of poignancy. It may be made of the stuff of toilets, but Loo Roll is definitely not poop.