Rosie Holt's play starts with a strange but possibly true premise. When Rachel Reeves became the first female Chancellor of the Exchequer she wanted the men's urinal replaced with a female version. Unfortunately the urinal had history on its side. Churchill may have pissed there, how could it ever be removed? Cue energetic satire and a splash of toilet humour.

 

Holt's mostly solo piece, with additional material from Stewart Lee, kicks off with her unnamed minister behind a desk delivering some decent topical material about current turbulent times in Westminster. It's a good start which will presumably have to be updated on a daily basis during this run, given the government's ongoing rollercoaster ride.

 

When the play proper starts, however, the premise that seemed so strong starts to collapse. As she wrestles with the issue while battling trolls, swigging vodka and chatting to a reanimnated  Churchill himself (played by Michael Lambourne), things don't quite hold together as well as they might. 

 

There are plenty of jokes, but they are often about a tick list of political figures, from Starmer and Truss to journalists Sarah Vine and and Isabel Oakeshott. i counted at least two gags about Michael Gove when one would have more than sufficed.

 

Holt herself is strong as the beleagured bureaucrat spiralling out of control. She made her name with a spoof MP that some assumed was genuine, so while she is playing a different character here – and not Rachel Reeves, as she is quick to point out – the ministerial tones come naturally.

 

This is a strangely old-fashioned play though, complete with some knockabout business involving a tangle of telephone leads. Surely no minister has this many landlines in 2026?  It is closer in spirit to Yes, Minister than The Thick of It. 

 

Which is a shame because I was expecting something stronger and more cutting from the creatives involved. The comedy touches on serious issues, from online abuse of women to media bias, but moves on without really interrogating them. A final impassioned semi-serious state-of-the-nation speech comes out of nowhere. 

 

Churchill's Urinal puts the emphasis on laughs, but despite only being 70 minutes long feels a little overstretched. I found myself glancing at my watch and being surprised that there was still another 30 minutes to go. On the plus side it's the perfect length – if not the perfect subject matter – for anyone with weak bladders.