Show review: The Choir of Man

I thought The Choir of Man was awful.  But then, loud pubs, enforced fun, and bellowing, uncomfortably ‘cheeky chappy’ men aren’t my things (shame I like in Essex, really!).  It’s my personal opinion, so fair enough.

Or not fair enough, actually, given the truly shocked looks on various people’s faces whenever I dared mumble that this show “isn’t really for me”.  The Choir of Man has a near-cultish following, and I cannot for the life of me understand why.  Maybe all the beer in that special on-stage pub has been tampered with.  Maybe Derren Brown lurks behind the curtain, silently convincing all ye who step onto that stage that this will be the BEST show they’ve ever seen!

Or maybe lots and lots of people really do like old, sticky-floored pubs (that ONLY sell pork scratchings and probably smell to boot) and watching people wee-wee in them.

Either way, I have only this to say.  “Time, gentlemen, please.”

(Here’s my review, which you’ll note is much politer than anything I’ve said above, but that’s because this is my online home, so I feel safe here).