IT’S fair to say a solo, biographical show about combating cancer won’t top most Fringe-goers must-see lists. That might change, however, if word about Toby Peach’s inspiring and uplifting show gets around.
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A young, handsome model with the world at his feet, he was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 22. Cue a long, painful trip to The Cancer Lounge where a sleazy cocktail bar ‘player’ puts him through remission, relapse, and finally, reinvention.
He dances with his IV drip, makes valid points about the constructive qualities of 90s porn stars, and would rather tell his partner he cheated on her than explain how it’s going to get worse. A lot worse.
The pacing here is measured more accurately than Toby’s chemo drugs, and by the time he has to chug six ‘shots’ that will destroy his immune system (and, quite possibly, induce heart failure), you’re up off your seat, willing him on, and giving him high fives. As he says, he’s lucky to be here at all. But it’s all thanks to us, the tax-payers, he goes on. Which makes you wonder: with the Government slowly privatising the NHS, future sufferers like Toby (in remission four years now), might not be as fortunate.
Until 30 August