Show type: Edinburgh Fringe 2002
Clark Greengage isn't expecting a sitcom for his birthday - nevertheless, he gets one. This pacy send-up of sitcom presents a spicy congelation of cartoonesque characters unknowingly conjuring up a comedy whirlwind. Written for radio but a visual banquet.
The figures speak for themselves: There were nine people in the audience at the start of this execrable show - only two remained at the end. And I only felt compelled to stay from some misguided sense of professional duty. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.
This painfully tedious, utterly pointless and singularly humourless pile of tripe is not the sort of show you should see if you have a weak will to live, as it saps your very soul with every agonising moment.
In fact, it's not a show you should see under any circumstances. Furthermore, tell your friends not to see it. Tell strangers in the street not to see it. Do the world a favour.
Your only problem may be finding the words to describe just how abysmally bad, how unredeemingly, relentlessly awful it truly is.
To counteract that problem, I tried to identify something that you might call a joke to demonstrate the level of "humour" on display. The best I could find is the exchange: "Where's my money"/"She died five years ago"/"No, money, not mummy." A seven-year-old would think that childish garbage.
If you care, the odd but potentially intriguing postmodern premise for this whole miserable project is that a lad gets a sitcom for his birthday, then has to collect the elements to make it work.
But with its irritatingly hammy acting and dismally weak script, this appalling, soulless effort embarrasses all concerned, including any audiences unfortunate enough to find themselves enduring it. Don't put yourself in that position.