The Reviews, Twonkey’s Night Train to Liechtenstein Edinburgh Fringe 2018:
4 stars The Scotsman Kate Copstick.
If you have never experienced an hour with Twonkey, this is an excellent place to start. He has gone positively mainstream this year with a musical feast accompanied by a running dramatic buffet that has an actual narrative thread and everything.
Twonkey’s Night Train To Liechtenstein, Heroes @ Dragonfly (Venue 414) **** Twonkey has, we are told, inherited a lot of money and his nasty manager is out to steal it on the eponymous Night Train to Liechtenstein. He has had a bad year, being thrown out by Mrs Twonkey and suffering from a subsequent aversion to content, but he pulls himself together and brings us a show you will never forget.
I fully expect to see his glorious, Kraftwerk-meets- Boomtown-Rats inspired track “In The Pub” topping the iTunes charts soon. It might be my favourite thing this August. Although Twonkey’s rendition of I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles is not to be missed and his “harrowing song about emotional distress” sung with a tiny toy kitten accompaniment will touch your very soul.
Add to this those perennial delights the Transylvanian Finger Fantasies, the return of Chris Hutchinson, Sandy and Mothra plus a Tiny Al Capone and a Semtex Fez and you have an hour of joyous abandon where the normal rules of anything simply don't apply.
One of the many great delights of a Twonkey show are the man’s mumblings and asides. “Let’s see where this takes us,” he mutters, after some incomprehensible but hilarious happening. “Everyone likes outcomes” he tells us. By this time we don’t mind. We are all just delighted to be there. It is difficult not to fall in love with a Twonkey show. Overthink it and you will ruin it for yourself; look for normal jokes and you will be disappointed. Step into the Twonkeyverse and give rationality a rest.
4 stars Beyond the Joke Claire Smith.
Twonkey is a musical comic with an operatic imagination. Nothing limits his determination to tell this sweeping trans European tale with a James Bond plot involving missing diamonds, attempted murder and exploding head gear.
His props often evade him, his cast of puppets are in a state of advanced disrepair. He even struggles at one point to put on a jacket at the same time as keeping a wig and a pair of glasses on his head.
This is low tech theatre. The only available lighting effect is a switch to the side of the stage, which can either be switched off, or on.
But Twonkey battles on, performing his one man rock opera as if he were on the stage of La Scala, rather than in a room above a pub with a light switch and a couple of suitcases full of collapsing props.
It’s easy to spot the Twonkey fans in the audience. They are the ones with a rapt expression who collapse in fits of laughter as soon as the proceedings commence.
Some of the other audience members wear a look of bewilderment, until they realise, that yes, somehow, this is all deliberate and very funny – and that even if they fail to follow the plot Twonkey has a coil of red rope behind the curtain which can be called in to act as a narrative thread.
The songs are marvellous. In a former life Vickers was the lead singer of indie band Dawn of the Replicants and he writes a new full song cycle for every one of his shows.
Highlights of his latest offering are the Kraftwerk inspired song ‘In the Pub’, performed in the style of the Boomtown Rats. There’s also the poignant ‘Furs’ – a heartbreaking tale about how much he missed his cat Mr Trombone after Mrs Twonkey asked him to move out.
There’s an emotional centre to this show which Twonkey lovers will not have experienced before. It makes the audience warm to this supremely loveable character even more, if such a thing were possible.
Nonetheless the climax of the tale is as far fetched and extraordinary as it's possible to be, involving a supernatural moth, crafted from an umbrella, sparked into life by two electricity pylons waved in the air by members of the audience.
Nothing is impossible. Never forget your dreams. And let your mind fly free. Twonkey, whoever he really is, lives to remind us of all things.
4 stars Fringe Guru Stephen Walker.
I am reliably informed (by me – Ed.) that it is almost impossible to travel by train to Liechtenstein, at night or at any other time. These trifling facts do not concern us here, as petty concerns such as real life have no bearing on the Twonkeyverse whatsoever. Mr Twonkey is here to take us on his surreal flights of fancy, so buckle in for the ride; the Night Train appears to fly, and it looks like Marie Antoinette is driving.
The Twonkey experience is something else; he’s a one-man cornucopia of the bizarre. There are stories, songs, hats and many puppets, but you can never be quite sure of your footing. Everything careers off at an unexpected tangent, or even a right angle.
Twonkey’s manager, Mr Pines, has discovered that Twonkey has inherited money from an aunt and must go to Liechtenstein to collect it. For those of us how have been this way before, it has always been doubtful that Mr Pines has Twonkey’s best interests at heart, and he duly sets in motion a plot to kill him with a Semtex Fez in the hope of claiming the money for himself.
Twonkey is already en route, in need of the cash because Mrs Twonkey has thrown him out. He is missing his cat, Mr Trombone – to whom he sings a heart-rending song. In a similar sad vein, there is a rather pessimistic version of I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles, and in a desperate attempt to avoid content, a song about going to the pub inspired by Kraftwerk. Secretly, I think that Mr Twonkey is really quite a good singer; he could be Bob Dylan or Tom Jones, but uniquely combines the traits of both.
In a post-truth world, I’m sure that Twonkey’s facts about Liechtenstein (he’s added these as audiences at the Prague Fringe seemed to expect them) are as good as any others you might discover. We also learn what Michael Stipe of REM is up to now – it involves fortune cookies – and catch up with a gigolo who has a three star rating on Trip Advisor. For the commited Twonkey fan, some of your favourite moments are in place, including the Transylvanian finger fantasy and the psychic knickers. The latter will reveal the deepest desires of someone present, though it’s never quite clear who.
I had been slightly concerned to hear that across two shows at Buxton Fringe, no one had walked out of Twonkey. I wondered if he had perhaps gone mainstream. But no, I needn’t have worried; true to form there were a few escapees (including, to my relief, the massive bloke sat in front of me). This does not concern us either: we get it and they don’t, and it makes us adherents to the Twonkeyverse feel special, as if we are part of a very select club for the discerning or the deranged. Curiously, this club is getting bigger every year. Long live Twonkey; may you forever evade the dastardly Mr Pines.
4 stars Broadway Baby Frodo Allan.Reviewing Mr. Twonkey at the Fringe has become a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Every year, I’m excited to go see his new show and then, during the performance, I find myself thinking, “How the hell am I going to review this in a way that makes sense?” This year is no exception.
For the uninitiated, Mr Twonkey is the creation of vocalist for cult rock band Dawn of the Replicants and winner of the acclaimed Malcolm Hardee Award for Comic Originality, Paul Vickers. His performance style is part lovely storytelling uncle and part drunken man standing in the street trying to have a friendly argument with himself. Twonkey is painfully endearing onstage and the audience are absolutely along for the ride on his Night Train to Liechtenstein. It's going to be a hell of a ride as I'm sure this train doesn't need to follow the tracks, is fuelled by fever-dreams, and it might actually be a submarine.
In this show, Twonkey’s constantly malevolent agent Mr Pines has yet another plan to rid himself of his hated client. He’s going to do this by shipping a semtex fez to Twonkey and then take his place and claim a recent inheritance. However, the plot is completely secondary to the meandering narrative thread (which is literally in a pile on the edge of the stage) which takes in thoughts on REM’s Michael Stipe, a tiny Al Capone, Twonkey’s failed marriage, and songs that shouldn’t have too many specifics.
All of the puppets that have become staples of Vicker’s performances are here and some call-back gags reward the long-time fans. The songs are wonderfully weird and there’s plenty of barmy asides throughout. This presentation is less prop heavy than previous shows but the various handmade and customised items throughout are, as always, a delight. “Doesn’t matter if everything breaks; that’s how the show works”, Vickers says as yet another prop goes a bit wrong and he’s right. The show works and it definitely broke me.
Highly Recommended Show Fringe Review Philip Hutchinson. I had heard that Mr Twonkey (the onstage persona of Paul Vickers) had a proper plotline for his show this year. I was concerned. There is always supposedly some kind of plotline to his work, which is usually gossamer-thin. I am pleased to report this year’s offering was no different. The plotline was gloriously absent.
Mr Twonkey is a mainstay of Edinburgh Fringe having been performing at the Festival for many years. The framework never changes. A mix of deconstructive asides, crazed and rambling songs, joking with the audience and his regular series of deformed, home-made junk puppet characters such as Chris Hutchinson (who, this year, sat on my knee and sang me a song whilst stroking my face – which is most odd coming from a lion sharing my surname), Sandy the duck and the more recently created Moth-Ra (who may or may not be mostly umbrella in origin). The Ship’s Wheel is also here, it’s purpose to dispense gifts and wisdom… and disclose surreal fantasies.
This year’s show did get some advance coverage in the national press, not least because of its curious title. Who even considers Liechtenstein at any point? Had it been titled NIGHT TRAIN TO GENEVA, I don’t think it would have garnered the same attention – but then, a place as obvious as Geneva is beneath Vickers’ creativity.
For the past two years, the show has taken place at The Dragonfly, a couple of minutes walk from his previous home at Sweet Venues. The chaos of a room in a pub does actually suit his performance better than a regular theatre environment. We enter the space to Roy Orbison’s ‘Mystery Girl’ and the performance space is a cross between a playroom and a toy recycling centre. I suspect we are seeing a physical manifestation of Vickers’ mind. A previous shortcoming in years gone by had been the music sometimes being so loud you couldn’t hear the lyrics to the songs. This was a great shame, because the lyrics are as madcap as anything he speaks. Thankfully, only the first song makes you strain to hear the words. His vocals will never be any different. I have said it before, and I will say it again; he sounds like Cat Stevens performing Frank Zappa material. This year, I feel the production values of his home-made backing tracks has improved. The sounds are sometimes dense and fully-realised. The style of each piece, whilst still being off-the-wall lunatic, changes from ballad to nursery rhyme to avant-garde atonal. I did feel – if I have any criticism to make – the songs weren’t as silly as usual. That said, is anyone ever going to better the opening song of 2017: ‘Santa Claus Is Eating Human Flesh’?
This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. ‘Daddy’s Not Coming Back’ would never be a mainstream hit – but it is a heartbreaking song that deserves a life outside of this show. One thing you would never expect from a Twonkey show is a tear in your eye, but he managed it. If Leonard Cohen were still alive, he would totally own this song. Coincidentally, Vickers does namecheck Cohen later in the show.
There’s a routine about Michael Stipe and REM which leads into an REM spoof. It’s hard to tell if it’s mockery or a tribute, Twonkey’s lyrics making as much sense as Stipe’s always did (which is not a great deal) but it certainly sounds like an REM song – if it were having a drug trip in a funfair.
Twonkey’s manager has always made me laugh. A huge false nose, cheap novelty sunglasses and the top of a Dracula mask put on upside down to resemble something between a quiff and Donald Trump. He gets Twonkey a booking in Liechtenstein, but later fails in his assassination attempt on Twonkey’s life by sending him a Semtex fez. Poor Sandy the duck, who has very little going for him anyway, takes the blast.
By this stage, Vickers is overheating, his shirt drenched in sweat. A man completely in his groove – which is very wide, and bounces off the walls of that groove to proceed. He brings out a Dracula glove puppet. Dracula leaps at a woman in the audience. She screams. It’s OK, though, because shortly before that Twonkey was hypnotising the same woman with finger puppets made from ping-pong balls. It’s swings and roundabouts.
I have no idea what my note ‘Naked Auntie’ means at this stage. I have to question if it’s in the show, or if my mind was so blasted I scribbled this down as some sort of catharsis.
The end of the show? Twonkey finds diamonds and a bluebird inside a pumpkin. Of course he does.
The Twonkey shows are a highlight of my Fringe. You know what you are going to get with one of them, unless you haven’t seen one before – in which case you will wonder what kind of wonderful Hell you’ve stumbled into. Not everyone is going to get it, but those that do are rewarded with an hour of surreal but aware nonsense. There are many comedians out there who are happy to tread this path, but Mr Twonkey leads the way like a Pied Piper with a karaoke machine and a bag of toys he found crushed under the wheel of a car. To quote the man himself: ‘It doesn’t matter if everything breaks. That’s how the show works’.
4 stars Jagazeen Maud Start.
A good, solid show. Mr Twonkey pulled it all out of the bag on this one, with his cheeky grin and an eccentric selection of puppets made in the 'Scottish Borders'. Thought I was in for a long one, when he came into the venue wearing a fake nose. I noted that the exit was in plain view of both the stage and the audience. No escape. Luckily, Mr Twonkey was fantastic. He had the room cracking up from start to end, with a little lull in the middle. Effortless, mighty booshesque, and bloody funny at times, Mr Twonkey was a treat.
Particularly tasty was the 'Transylvanian Finger Fantasy', which was so bloody bizarre, but the expression on Twonkey's face kind of made you melt a little. After the show, a couple of Mr Twonkey's acquaintances, scattered about the audience, raised their eyebrows and whispered to me 'He's like that all the time- he wasn't faking it.'
So there you go. Mr Twonkey wasn't faking it. It was a real performance- and I give it a mighty four stars.
Photos Anna Venezia(Prague Fringe) and Tony Oudot (London show).
London The Bill Murray Comedy Club:
6:45 PM THURSDAY 7TH OF FEBRUARY 2019 THE BILL MURRAY ISLINGTON LONDON
Leicester Comedy Festival:
9:30 PM SATURDAY 9TH OF FEBRUARY 2019 HEROES @ THE CRITERION
Twonkey’s 10th show is about grotesque cake decorating shop in the Dordogne that has been secretly making fake weather sense 1982.On the new show Mr.Twonkey has this to say "Only Last week I knocked on the door licking my lips in anticipation. The shopkeeper opened the door, a tiny woman who was all baggy eyes with a hard miserable face and fast little legs. I had made a horrible mistake I could not turn back! Come to the show and to find out what happened to me next"
"A musical comic with an operatic imagination" 4 stars Beyond the Joke
"He’s a one-man cornucopia of the bizarre" 4 stars Fringe Guru
"He creates wonderlands of weird" 4 stars The Scotsman
"Mind bending fables" 4 stars The Times
"The plan is written on a teapot" 4 stars Broadway Baby
Winner of the 2016 Malcolm Hardee Award for Comic Originality.
PHOTOS BY PHOTO EXPRESS
