Pedestrian

A man walks endlessly along the pavement of a shopping district, hounded by a giant, soya milk-sipping goldfish in coattails, whose head is twisted at a right angle to its body. On his way, he falls in love, backtracks, and spends a lot of time bitching about people at Tesco. Tom Wainwright, author and sole performer of Pedestrian, states that he had a goldfish with a wonky head when he was a kid by way of explanation.

It is, in truth, more of a two-man show. From up in the tech-box, Simon Wainwright accompanies his stage-bound partner with a panoply of visual quirks and thumping dance tunes. Projected at the back of the stage is the hypnotic image of the eternally receding pavement, while a fishbowl with a very real, probably disoriented goldfish sits stage right. By some form of electrical witchery, the objects referred to during the monologue end up projected into the bowl, floating about ethereally.  

The play is strongly rooted in dream-logic, the plot flowing through seemingly random association rather than in any linear fashion. But it is consistently amusing, often funny, and occasionally surprisingly lyrical. Where the meandering narrative starts to lag, Wainwright manages to keep up audience interest with the force of his performance alone. His expressive delivery and physical power not only gets across but effectively adds to the script, bringing to life a freakshow cast of companions as he undulates and jerks his way across his endless path in this extraordinarily slick, well-conceived production.