At the age of four, poo is funny. Poo is the absolute funniest thing in the world, even above tall people falling over and Daddy blowing wet raspberries on your tum-tum. It is funnier than wee-wee. That is hard to imagine, I know. Any toddler who values their cool amongst other toddlers calls their Mummy ‘poohead’ and has at least poked a pile of steaming plop-plop with Uncle Peter’s Blackberry, if not hidden one of their skinless sausages in Auntie Sarah’s handbag. This is why Kipper Tie Theatre’s adaptation of the children’s classic ‘The Story of the Little Mole Who Knew it Was None of His Business’ by Werner Holzwarth and Wolf Erlbruch has firm starting ground. Little Mole (Sally Lofthouse) pokes his head out of the ground one morning to see whether the sun has already risen, only to be met with a dollop of some unknown bum’s finest. Short-sighted as he is, Little Mole doesn’t know whose business it is, but he’s sure it’s definitely not his. He sets out to find out just who would do such a thing and meets a whole host of animals (played superbly by Stephanie Willson and Bernie Byrnes) on his search to find the elusive pooer.If you are a parent - now three paragraphs down - you will be thinking “well, that’s all very well” and then you will ask of this review a question more important than any asked at some silly war crimes tribunal: “Will it keep their attention for at least ten damn minutes?” Yes. Your child will be singing and clapping all the way through.What’s brilliant about the show (poo aside, obviously) is how each animal section introduces a different type of theatre to your child, variously romping through storytelling, pantomime, musical and always involving the audience, whether directing the performance outwards or egging your kids on into losing their voices in a left- versus right-hand-side sing-off (your parental headache thus soothed for the rest of the afternoon). It’s also funny, peppering the story with slapstick, puns and great characters, somehow eliciting laughs from both parents and children.There were only 5 minutes when the more miniature members of the audience did not seem enraptured; a too adult Australian surfer-hippie goat’s re-telling of the Three Little Pigs lost on their tiny, tiny ears. They were soon back into the magic, however, and the only other thing that could be construed as a fault was that the excellent singing was sometimes lost behind the volume of the catchy music.When Little Mole finally doles out the wonderful comeuppance that’s been coming to his mystery assailant, you will be despairing, but not because of the performance. You’ll be wondering what else you can find at the Fringe that will satisfy one of your child’s prime interests and limited attention span, short of letting them loose on the sweets aisle in the supermarket.
