Hannah Jane Walker and Chris Thorpe
You just fucked up. Now what? Sometimes, fuck-ups are so massive, there’s no way back.
In this Fringe First winning show, poet Hannah Jane Walker and Chris Thorpe examine the poetic guts of mistakes in a bundle of words and strip lighting. Fucking up is the truest, funniest, most terrifying moment you can experience.
You will make a mistake, maybe you’ll learn from it.
The oh fuck moment is a conversation around a desk for brave souls to hold their hands up and admit they fucked up, or for people to laugh at us because we did.
You should probably see The oh fuck moment if you’ve ever stood on a rake. Or accidentally made your party cocktails with bleach. Or locked yourself in a shed. Or been caught cheating. Or followed your inclination to experiment and ended up in A+E with a traumatic wanking injury. Or crashed a plane. Or set fire to yourself. Or been responsible for someone’s death. Or watched someone die. Or fallen awkwardly. Or fallen awkwardly on a rake. Or fallen awkwardly while flying a plane. Or while wanking. Or put your tongue in the wrong person’s mouth. Or put your tongue in what you thought was the right person’s mouth and it turned out to be the wrong person’s mouth.
Or got really angry because someone told you a story about a horse.
Or pressed the button that had the sign next to it saying:
DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES PRESS THIS BUTTON
Even if that button was a metaphorical one, and the thing that blew up was your life. Or if you hit ‘reply all’ and told them all just what you thought of them. Or if you’ve ever been in charge of a nuclear power station. Or a room full of toddlers. Or a government. Or just come if it was absolutely, positively your fault, and there’s no point trying to explain, or apologise, or any of that stuff that usually makes it better. Or at least a bit less disastrous.
Or if you’ve done none of these things. Because someone has. In fact, WE have. And we’d like to tell you about it, because one day, probably, you’ll do them too.
Oh, and come if you like poems. And talking. Because the show has both of those things. And fucking up. Poems, talking and fucking up.
A brilliant celebration of our mistakes & evolutionary reflexes
The Guardian ****
This remarkable piece of participatory theatre ranks as among the most absorbing and thought-provoking.
Produced by Ric Watts (originally produced by Emily Coleman)
Developed at The Nightingale Theatre and The Junction