Simon Slack – The Fantasist

The common preconception that Fringe shows all about the writing of Fringe shows have a tendency towards solipsism is not without an element of truth, but should not excuse an often unjustified prejudice. Nevertheless, Simon Slack, in the first of many vulgar yet surprisingly subtle visual metaphors, acknowledges from the outset that the creative process can be seen as self-indulgent wankery...by beginning The Fantasist with an operatic bout of simulated masturbation.

The remainder of the show follows a cartoonish (and hopefully fictional) recreation of the show's genesis; Slack, sitting in his bedroom in grubby underwear, tries unsuccessfully to write while ignoring the distractions and temptations of drugs, television, noisy neighbours and his tragically sweet grandmother. Desperate to find a viable performance piece, Slack eventually invests in a bespoke mail-order puppet that will haunt your nightmares (imagine if Clive Barker carved a ventriloquist's doll out of chewed gum and badger teeth). The puppet, with whom Slack soon develops a dysfunctional sexual relationship, can be seen as a symbol for everything the audience might find unpleasant about Slack's often grim comedy, as well as everything he dislikes about himself. Whether you find him funny or not, Slack is several steps ahead of us.

By the second half, Slack's narrative of self-loathing, self-reflection and self-discovery has become more interesting than most of the skits and running gags that make up the show. But even if his defiantly Marmite material isn't to your taste, there is clearly care and thought invested in it.