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Somewhere that's green: Potty the Plant at Wiltons Music Hall

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"I'm Potty the Plant," sings a potted plant in this odd little fringe concept of a show. It's hard not to get the tune out of your head, even if the show is brief. It's an earworm for a show that features a worm-like plant as a puppet. And given the show's brevity, running at only an hour, it's hard to get too annoyed by a lack of a coherent story, even if it still seems like the show could use a bit more development (which is underway). It has made its London debut at Wilton's Music Hall. The premise is that Potty, the plant, lives in the hospital office of Dr Acula (geddit?) and dreams of a life with the cleaning lady Miss Lacey (Lucy Appleton). But Dr Acula might be responsible for why all these children are disappearing while trying to romance Miss Lacey for her family's money that she doesn't have. Three nurses are on the case, trying to solve the mystery.  If the show settled on a convincing plot, location and set of characters, it could ...

Mister cellophane: If I Were Me @sohotheatre


Alienation, tennis balls, struggling daffodils, piles of post it notes. It is all part of the surreal world in If I Were Me.

The piece is billed as the darker consequences of finding a new version of yourself. Selling a product and selling yourself as a product blur together.

If at any point you get lost in the piece, it doesn't really matter. Something weird is going to happen and that will either make you more confused or set you straight.


Upon arriving upstairs at the theatre, someone is hoovering the floor and there are tennis balls on some of the seats. Most of us sat on seats without balls on them but the purpose of tennis balls would only sort of become clearer later in the piece.

The piece presents us with Philip. He is an intern at an advertising agency. He struggles with anyone noticing him in the office. There is a wonderful scene where Hannah, a woman he is trying to ask out on a date makes him get on the floor. She then leaves him there.

A chance encounter with a bearded motivational speaker called Trevor forces him to make some changes.

But on the sidelines there is another person watching the story. While Philip is struggling to be himself, she decides to step in and be him instead.

It's all a bit silly, but part of me wished it went even further to really freak out the audience. After all if we are going to be at a Soho Rising event, which showcases new artistic talent, we probably could be made a bit more uncomfortable.

The piece runs at the Soho Theatre only until 26 March but worth a look. And don't be afraid to move the tennis balls.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

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