Tag Archives: Fringe Festival

Tim Renkow – King of the Tramps: A Review

Bunbury Magazine Rating – ★★★★★

The first thing to say about Tim Renkow is, his comedy is not for the faint-hearted. If you like a sugar-coating, sprinkles of fairy dust and happy-go-lucky stories, Tim’s brand of comedy is not for you.

However, if you like blisteringly honest, ferocious and to-the-knuckle comedy (and let’s face it, who doesn’t) then Tim is most certainly the comedian for you.

Tim clearly has a wickedly sharp comic sense which he turns on his life with cerebral palsy, his time on the streets and, afterwards, being hounded by the homeless in a wonderfully dark manner. His tales are grounded in a fierce reality yet ‘out there’ in a glorious way. He weaves a great levity into his darkness, putting the audience’s minds at rest.

Not that the audience needed this comfort. Even with the brutal way in which Tim speaks about his life, there was never an uncomfortable moment.

Tim is a natural and confident performer with a wicked sense of comedy which is a pleasure to witness.

King of the Tramps was on at The Hive at 1950 as part of Heroes

CSI: Crime Scene Improvisation – A Review

Bunbury Magazine Review – ★★★★★

The show we saw of Crime Scene Improvisation was a one-off, in more than one sense of the word. This intelligent group of actors work an entire murder mystery solely based on suggestions from the audience, meaning each performance is unique, never to be seen again.

Each and every person involved demonstrated a phenomenal skill in building an increasingly bizarre and hilarious story, filled with wonderfully 3-dimensional characters.

Our was the story of a young, world-leading shrew tamer who was force-fed a Lego statue of a shrew. Yes, we told you it was bizarre. The detective superbly lead the audience through the narrative as each of the characters interacted, unraveling revelations that eventually built to revealing the culprit.

This troupe of performers cannot be praised highly enough for their quick-thinking, interaction, both with each other and the audience and we cannot more strongly recommend seeing them if they should be in a town near you. It is of utter testament to them that the demand to see the show was so high that people were being asked to come back the next day.

CSI: Crime Scene Improvisation was on in Cabaret Voltaire at 1515 as part of The Free Festival.

Editor Christopher Writes – #PoemADayForAYear: 09/05/15

Here is a poem, while parts of my hair are stripped of all colour (brown) in favour of red. I hope this isn’t mid-life crisis. I want to live past 60 and into that glorious phase of life where I don’t have to give a shit about what I say.

I hope this is me trying to grasp, in vain, to the last vestiges of a rapidly-dwindling youth. Hang on, that is a mid-life crisis, isn’t it? Well, sport car and a suit made from purple velvet, here I come.

Here is a poem.

I stop on the North Bridge

as dusk clouds, filtered

orange and purple, hang overhead.

A student,

possibly a tourist,

possibly both,

bumps into me,

smiling apologetically through dreadlocks,

patting his Global Hypercolour t-shirt covered

chest as he carries on walking,

fading into the torrent of festival-goers.

I stand in silence, looking over the old stone

barriers into the distance.

There is a black-and-red gothic-style

church? Cathedral? Whatever it is,

it blazes in the foreground of this

elegant sunset amidst buildings old and new and,

even further back, mountains.

All of a sudden, the clamour of the crowd

is drowned out by a crack overhead. The clouds flee

as a fighter jet blurs past, directly over the

church. Within seconds it has gone.

This was six years ago. In total, seeing the sunset,

the church, hearing the sky boom and glimpsing the

jet took less than a minute yet the memory has never left

me.  Neither has what happened next.

I turn around and see to my left a street performer

walking towards me, a vintage mime.

To my right, a staunch old Scottish man rattles his way

through the crowd. Their paths collide.

The Scottish man glares with fury at the mime.

The mime tries to make light of this anger, a joke

of moving to make way but an invisible wall blocks his path.

The Scottish man barges past and continues on his way.

Just before he is out of ear shot I hear him say to himself

‘I’ll be glad when these cunts all fuck off home.’