Tea for One – ★★★★☆
Some plays creep up on you; this one tiptoes in with a teacup and a file marked classified. Tea for One follows retired MI5 agent Edith Pike, holed up in a wallpapered 1970s bedsit with only a teapot, curiously named Algernon, for company.
At first, it’s a charming portrait of eccentric solitude: she pours for two, reminisces about “the time the KGB sent her a cake,” and offers Algernon tiny biscuits on a saucer. Slowly, though, it becomes clear her chats with Algernon aren’t mere nostalgia—they’re debriefings. But for whom?
Mavis Greenwood’s performance is razor-sharp, shifting between brisk cheer and quiet paranoia. Director Ian Hassian lets silences linger, using the clink of ceramic like a metronome of tension. The sound design suggests a world beyond the flat: faint radio crackles, an unexplained knock, a kettle that seems to whistle from somewhere else entirely. At its best, the show teeters between comedy and unease, making you wonder if Edith is losing her mind or still deep in the game. A couple of pacing dips could be trimmed, but the final decision—whether to smash Algernon or protect him—lands with unexpected emotional weight.
A tender, awkward comedy about a retired spy whose only confidant is her teapot, delivering both laughs and a surprising gut punch.
Pavement Prophet – ★★★☆☆
Part sermon, part busker’s patter, Pavement Prophet plants its audience on mismatched chairs while poet-performer Len Murdoch strides barefoot across a stage scattered with chalk drawings. His premise: the streets of Westminster speak in cryptic riddles, and only he can translate them.
Some of these translations are electric—there’s a moment where he compares chewing gum on the pavement to “the city’s failed promises, pressed down by a thousand shoes” that drew an audible gasp. But other segments feed on themselves, more about sound than meaning, and risk losing momentum. The lighting changes with each “revelation,” flashing neon pink or plunging the space into shadow, which adds atmosphere but can feel gimmicky. Still, Murdoch’s raw commitment, and his willingness to abandon the script when inspired by an audience member’s cough or a distant siren, gives the performance a thrilling unpredictability.
A spoken-word wander through modern London’s underbelly that’s brilliant in bursts but occasionally trips over its own metaphors.