Original Review:

Well, not necessarily. What if your two protagonists are mentally stunted, agoraphobic half-brothers, abandoned by their mother at a young age and forced survive by writing advertising jingles, despite nurturing a medical dictionary’s worth of dysfunction, from obsessive-compulsive disorder to an oedipal complex? That’s probably not been done before…

That is, indeed, the batshit-mental world inventive double-act Warwick Allsopp and Tamlyn Henderson have created in this surreal, claustrophobic and strangely delightful show, which might only be on the flimsiest nodding terms with reality but can certainly generate plenty of solid laughs.

The comedy comes from several directions. There’s the spot-on jingle parodies for everything from a mattress warehouse to a sex chat line, which the childlike naïfs hilariously misinterpret, not to mention the fractured verbal knockabout and rich vein of physical humour that could almost give clowning a good name.

But most impressive is the all-encompassing feel of this weird universe, midway between Beckett and the Boosh. This strong, unique sense of style is the stuff cults are made of, and Allsopp and Henderson – creators of the previously acclaimed show A Porthole Into The Minds Of The Vanquished – are surely destined for a much greater following, especially given the unfairly sparse audience attracted to this Tuesday-night performance.

The uneasy atmosphere they and director Ansuya Nathan so artfully establish is disconcerting at first, to the detriment of the entertainment, but as you get to understand the characters, the situation and, most importantly, the sense of humour, there’s much delight to be had, especially when a plot of sorts emerges.

The half-brothers have a symbiotic love-hate bond, incubated in their isolation. Since they never leave the house, it’s almost inevitable that when younger sibling Leigh catches a fleeting glimpse of a female neighbour through their letterbox, he falls giddily in love, putting a destructive strain on his relationship with brother Loman.

It brings lifelong tensions to a head, and gives the Jinglists the satisfying feel of a complete comic play – despite the best efforts of the awkward, voiceover postscript to muddy this. It’s one of a few niggling flaws in an otherwise smart, distinctive and weirdly witty festival offering.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett