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Walsh Brothers: Themself
War On Worry: Free
Watson & Oliver [2007]
WC Fields: Lightly Boiled
We Are Klang: DickParty - A Retrospective
We Need Answers: The Inaugural Festival Challenge Cup
What The World Needs
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Show type: Edinburgh Fringe 2007
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Walsh Brothers: Themself
The Walsh Brothers’ wonderfully absurdist mixture of stand-up, sketches, seat-of-the-pants improv and sibling rivalry is impossible to categorise. They are the funniest sibling double-act since Chip ‘n Dale. They are The Muppet Show made human. And most importantly, they are indescribably good.
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Original Review:
God almighty, this was painful. David whooped his way on to the stage, it was after all ‘Sadderday night, yeah! Right!’ He apologised for the absence of his brother, Chris, and settled into a pleasant bit of storytelling, recounting stories from Indiana Jones, using a deliberate lack of panache. Cue interruption from heckler, butting in with his own random and irrelevant story. But of course, it’s Chris. So after a couple of minutes of pretending it was an intrusion, this segment was allowed to continue, cross-cutting between the stories and the style of story telling. Then there was some hideous stuff from Future-Gay, with a crinkly wig that made him look like the Jack from a pack of cards, talking about a future where gays ruled the world, created gay babies and the straight resistance worked underground. Another mercifully silent sketch gave us a Clouseau-esque magician, and fell into the trap of going on for too long and exhausting the patience of the audience. I’m confident I speak for all of us on this. Following the inept magician, we got the inept escapologist Escapo and his sideshow huckster. Mercifully, the lamentable sketches were dropped, to go into stand-up territory. Unfortunately, this wasn’t their strong suit either. They did the schtick about inviting heckles, because that’s what they’re good at, then were reduced to stage tears by the supposed brutality. Then the ‘post drinking, going for a kebab’ routine, charmingly interlaced with a tale of an extended wank outside Boston City Hall. What we had here, I’m guessing, were two improv or drama students with a spare summer and their mate along for the ride, singing the audience out as pastiche crooner, Barry Talent from Bermuda. I want my hour back. Reviewed by: Julian Chambers |
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