“Unpublished” thoughts on The Last Ever Musical

“The Last Ever Musical holds a mirror to the fringe London theatre scene” – or so claims composer Richard Bates in his programme notes to a musical that follows a producer as he tries to please funders with a show centred around the “humble tampon”.

If Bates was onto something true, we’d all be doomed, living our theatrical lives in a bubble of faltering egos, perpetual strops and sexual stereotypes.

With its play within a play format, this production has allowed itself to be deliberately bad, but this ill-handled attempted buffoonery doesn’t stop at the meta-content, and dribbles out into the main storyline, with missed notes, desperate rhymes and door-bell sound effects that would make even Noel Edmunds cringe.

Brash, unfunny and badly calculated, this show is a victim of its own clunky advice: “You know you could fill the stalls / If you could just grow some balls”.

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