Tragedy has befallen the house of Twonkey. Since last year’s Edinburgh Fringe one of the festival’s stalwart characters, Mr Twonkey, died, apparently. Which is why tonight’s audience is welcomed into their traditional home, Dragonfly’s back room, by an absolute vision of feminine eccentricity – his grieving widow. The preposterous show must go on.
The brainchild of ex-indie rocker Paul Vickers, Twonkey is an institution, a slice of pure unsullied anything-goes Fringe. There are grotesque puppets, catchy-but-barmy songs (often absolute bangers, bizarre lyrics aside), a loose narrative about running a funfair, and some brilliantly awkward audience interactions. Mrs Twonkey has decided to continue several of the old onstage favourites. “It’s like if Frank Sinatra didn’t sing My Way,” she says.
This is, let’s be honest, not for everyone. But then half the fun of a Twonkey show is watching the newcomers grapple with what on earth is happening. They may not enjoy it, but rest assured, they will talk about it forever. And isn’t that how the Fringe should be?
Our hostess even ends with a poignant poem, about the love between bird and snail. “That’s powerful,” she says afterwards, stifling a laugh. The future of Twonkey is in safe hands.
Twonkey’s Zip Wire to Zanzibar, Laughing Horse @ Dragonfly, until 24 Aug (not 11, 18), 8.15pm