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Somewhere that's green: Potty the Plant at Wiltons Music Hall

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"I'm Potty the Plant," sings a potted plant in this odd little fringe concept of a show. It's hard not to get the tune out of your head, even if the show is brief. It's an earworm for a show that features a worm-like plant as a puppet. And given the show's brevity, running at only an hour, it's hard to get too annoyed by a lack of a coherent story, even if it still seems like the show could use a bit more development (which is underway). It has made its London debut at Wilton's Music Hall. The premise is that Potty, the plant, lives in the hospital office of Dr Acula (geddit?) and dreams of a life with the cleaning lady Miss Lacey (Lucy Appleton). But Dr Acula might be responsible for why all these children are disappearing while trying to romance Miss Lacey for her family's money that she doesn't have. Three nurses are on the case, trying to solve the mystery.  If the show settled on a convincing plot, location and set of characters, it could ...

Theatre: Nocturne

I found myself at the Almeida on Friday night watching Nocturne, thanks to some some spare tickets Sue had because she had to go to a summer barbecue.

This is a one-man show written by Adam Rapp and performed by Peter McDonald. There was something slightly unnerving about sitting in a theatre on a warm summer night watching a monologue about a man who accidentally kills his sister. It wasn't exactly summer fun and that might have explained why the theatre was a little empty. Perhaps it was the night for barbecues and drinking rather than monolgoues. Still the performance and story was strangely captivating. At times it was like you were at the edge of your seat, knowing you were about to hear something awful but keen to hear how he accidentally decapitated his younger sister.

I have been wary of watching monologues ever since I endured the pretentious and coma-enducing one-man Macbeth. Fortunately there was none of that here and McDonald's performance was incredible to watch. At times still all this guilt and memory and impotence was heavy going (which may be the production's fault), but overall there was something still quite remarkable about it.

I dragged David along to see it and after the show we had quite an intriguing conversation about all the ways you could lose your head. None of which included going to see monolgoues on a hot summer night so I am assuming he didn't mind it either. It is now off to Edinburgh Fringe.

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