This is a brilliant show.
Just book the tickets now and go and see this show
You can stop reading there, if you like, because the next couple of hundred words are just going to stack up the superlatives. But if you want to know exactly why you need to add this to your ‘must-see’ list of Fringe shows this year, stay with me.
The fundamental conceit of the piece is that an inclusive theatre group are making a piece about ableism and diversity.
So far, so worthy. There are even captions, a BSL interpreter, exhortations to check our privilege and audio descriptions. So if, unlike the rest of us luvvies loafing about the Fringe, this is likely to bring you out in gammony hives; you might prefer to stop at home with one hand down your Y-fronts and another in a packet of Cheerios watching 1970s sitcoms on loop.
And yet, this is no dry, earnest piece whose only value lies in earning you Woke Points for sitting though it. It is clever, irreverent, shrewd, naughty, caring, and very very very funny.
Its charm and ingenuity lies in the sophisticated way in which the cast juggle their clear passion for equity with a keen acuity for deflating the pompous, risible or just downright cringey. Perhaps aided by the fact that ableism is one of the newer kids on the accessibility block, the jokes are fresh and original, and come thick and fast, spilling over themselves with a wonderful sense of confidence and ownership not always a given at the Fringe.
It would be hard not to love this show. In fact, so delighted was one of the audience members in front of me that at many points, it was a toss up as to whether he would trigger an asthma attack, a hernia implosion, or a ventricular episode just by laughing so much.
Please, just book the tickets now and go and see this show. Although arguably a niche premise, it is structured to be open for anyone with a healthy sense of humour and intellect. In fact, it really is a motherf**king pleasure.
