Review by Steve Bennett

He is the Baldrick of the operation, forever being put on, reacting with hangdog stoicism until he finally cracks. And if I had to endure this shrill show every day for a month, I’m sure I’d crack, too.

The writing is flabby, and only Silverman can act. Gannon and Casey instead come from the ‘if in doubt, shout’ school; belting out their lines with little subtlety.

They can be themselves with reasonable confidence, bickering about how the show is progressing, but within the sketches themselves, characterisation is non-existent. Occasionally someone might adopt a gratingly exaggerated accent, but that’s as far as it goes. These aren’t real people – or even entertaining caricatures – just soulless conduits for words written on a page.

And what a lot of words there are; almost every sketch is overwritten, repeating the same ideas or set-ups. I’d find my mind wandering for a few moments, but when I snapped back to the stage, nothing had moved on. Occasionally there will be a weak pun at the end of a scene, but it’s scant reward for the saggy build-up.

‘Who cares, it’s only free,’ is a refrain we hear from the stage. But this sort of attitude, even said in jest, will always hold the free parts of the festival back.

Ashley Frieze – who officially isn’t part of the line-up – provides a nicely musical prologue and epilogue to proceedings, which temporarily affords the show a feeling of quality that neither the writing nor two-thirds of the performances can deliver.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett

Review date: 1 Jan 2008
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett