The Thousands

A man stands alone on stage, chain smoking, fidgeting, babbling nervously about the show he is about to perform and all he hopes it could be. For the next 70 minutes, a one-man show ensues, our protagonist manically unpacking his daydreams, neurosis, spirited highs and self-loathing lows.

Gareth Davies (of Black Lung Theatre) knows this might sound cliche; a good chunk of his monologue acknowledges this, and any other shortcomings of the script self-referentially (at times endearingly, occasionally tedious). But what’s always impressive about a show like this is damn, one man onstage DID just hold your attention, for over an hour, no breaks, making you laugh, cringe, ponder, relate, and discover.

I’m a gag man, so I’m a sucker for the bits when Gareth’s unnamed narrator and star segues into ‘whose on first?’ style wordplay routines. He tells us repeatedly he wants to reveal something to us – “no, not the penis” he qualifies.

Weirdly, one of the best things about this show is the set – a dusty wave of woodwork and antiques, its details barely discernible even in this tiny theatre. The crowning glory: from above, hundreds of light bulbs hang suspended, dimming and lighting at variation throughout. It’s a blessing and a curse that if you do drift off (and you may at times), you can bug out on the fantastic design.