I’ve always shuddered at the thought of how difficult writing a whodunnit must be. The author knows who the killer is, so how can they possibly drop hints, clear enough to allow the reader to figure out the culprit, but still subtle enough that they don’t make it completely obvious? To me, it’s a very impressive skill, and one I can’t get my head around. At Cyanide at the Speakeasy, we’re dropped into the middle of a murder investigation. The owner of the illegal prohibition-era venue is … [Read more...]

First things first: Circus is a pretty queer theatrical medium as it is. All gleaming muscles and held-intimacy, with gender-bending moments the norm. So it’s an ideal match for two-hander The Chosen Haram, billed as an exploration of sexuality, chemsex, faith, addiction and connection. For lead performer Sadiq Ali, it’s personal. The show is developed from his own experience, and others who’ve shared it, of growing up Muslim and coming to accept their queer identity. This being a … [Read more...]

I always loved Choose Your Own Adventure books. Definitely not the Steve Jackson ones where you had to roll dice (who did that?) to find out whether you defeated the troll or had to go back to the very start. No, I'm talking about those completely original, world-expanding stories where aliens invade and you, dear reader, have to decide whether to fight or flee or surrender (turn to pages 10, 15 or 67 respectively) or, be pursued by a ghost, must choose to investigate the supernatural or unmask … [Read more...]

Confession: I’ve never been to Las Vegas - a city so single-mindedly devoted to entertainment (okay, and vice and capitalism, but let’s gloss over that for now). Whenever I see a Cirque du Soleil show, however, I feel like a part of Sin City - where the company has multiple residencies - has been transported to London. Packing a show, conceived for a purpose-built, fully-equipped, modern auditorium into a 150-year-old concert hall always feels to me like an absolute miracle. Kurios is no … [Read more...]

It’s the day of the World Cup Final, rain is making the hard-packed snow even more of a slip-hazard, the tube is in chaos even though there isn’t a strike on, and yet I cross the metropolis to make my way to a big top in a green space I’ve never been to before, Beckenham Place Park. Never mind that I’m boycotting Qatar’s World Cup, nor that the snow will finally and blessedly thaw overnight - I’m not hoping for a prize for making it across London - but I am in something of a grump when I … [Read more...]