In Churchill’s Urinal, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, played by Rosie Holt, has climbed to the (near-) pinnacle of political power. But there’s a problem, as she explains to her much put-upon PA: the presence of a urinal in her personal toilets always makes her feel like she’s in the wrong place.
As will be no shock from the title, the urinal in question had previously been graced by the effluent of Sir Winston Churchill. It is thus an object of historical significance and cannot be removed. Public perception that the Chancellor is anti-Churchill sets in motion an ever-widening spiral of events, inadvertently abetted by Holt’s sweary, hapless character. It all eventually leads to a mob at the door, and an increasingly inebriated Chancellor in conversation with a Zombie Churchill (Michael Lambourne), who appears within the porcelain itself.
Holt, who also wrote the script (with additional material by Stewart Lee), presents the piece as comedic storytelling, often with her character on the phone, or on multiple phones. While some of the jokes are very funny, most have a similar structure that quickly feels repetitive, and the whole exercise comes across more like a quest to cram in as many name-drops and London cultural touchpoints as possible, rather than a targeted satire. The humour is broad and bludgeoning, not focused and lacerating.
Lambourne’s eventual appearance after the long set-up is welcome, but the story doesn’t quite seem to know where to go after he gets in his mugging and gurning. Holt’s Chancellor is an emotional cipher, despite the story’s being told from her point of view, and a scene in which she pleads for reconciliation with her divorcing husband doesn’t succeed in injecting dramatic heft; it just feels oddly tacked on.
Similarly, a late turn towards earnest political manifesto, clearly intended to be stirring, lands as if an unsuccessful graft from a different piece altogether. There’s some mild audience interaction that has no apparent purpose, and a bit of a ballet of landlines that’s amusing but doesn’t significantly advance the story.
The best through-line of Churchill’s Urinal is the screwball farce of The Chancellor’s Very Bad Day. Watching the situation accelerate out of control is entertaining, especially as the charismatic Holt manages to evoke sympathy for her character’s plight even as her own actions fuel the unraveling. Ultimately, though, the muddle of tone and themes, combined with a lack of tightness in the comedy, make the 70-minute run time feel much longer.
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