Churchill's Urinal

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Rosie Holt and Michael Lambourne photo credit Steve Ullathorne

There is something rather deliciously subversive about entering the King’s Head Theatre and being greeted not by the comforting hush of polite drama, but by the spectre of British politics turned inside out. In Churchill’s Urinal, the world feels just familiar enough to be unsettling, yet warped just enough to make you laugh before you can quite catch yourself. And laugh you will—often, loudly, and with the slightly guilty air of someone who recognises a little too much truth in the joke.

Rosie Holt plays the Chancellor—sharp, controlled, apparently unflappable—a successful woman navigating public life, private upheaval, and the slow, grinding indignity of both. She is also a loving aunt, a soon-to-be divorcée, and a figure of contradictions; competent yet beleaguered, powerful yet persistently undermined. It is a portrait that feels at once heightened and entirely plausible—particularly if you remember a time when the idea of a first female Chancellor was still something to be remarked upon.

Holt’s performance is impeccably judged. Her interaction with the audience is spot on, inviting us into complicity without ever relinquishing control. There are many laugh-out-loud moments—especially in her skewering of self-proclaimed male feminists and those who insist that equality has all gone “too far.” The writing lands with a precision that rewards anyone with even a passing familiarity with the political landscape.

Opposite her, Michael Lambourne takes on multiple roles with gleeful dexterity, most memorably as the titular urinal itself—a vodka-drinking, Churchill-voiced fixture that is as absurd as it is inspired. It is not every evening that one encounters a lavatory channelling wartime rhetoric, yet here it feels oddly inevitable. The interplay between Holt’s tightly wound Chancellor and Lambourne’s irreverent embodiments is consistently very funny, the two actors sparring with a rhythm that keeps the piece buoyant even as it brushes up against darker themes.

And darker themes there are. The use of incoming social media messages—voiced and projected with unnerving immediacy—brings home the relentless misogyny faced by women in the public eye. These moments cut cleanly through the laughter, reminding us that the satire, while playful, has teeth. The production deftly explores sexism, the disposability of political figures, and the question of how we reconsider our historical icons. Even Churchill—reduced, reimagined, and lightly pickled—is given a curious afterlife that invites both affection and critique.

Yet for all its seriousness, Churchill’s Urinal never forgets the importance of entertainment. Under the direction of Daniel Clarkson, the piece moves briskly, balancing wit with weight, and allowing its central performance to shine without overburdening it. By the end, there is a sense not just of having been amused, but of having been nudged—gently but firmly—towards reconsideration. Power, the show suggests, is not merely held; it is contested, reclaimed, and occasionally wrestled back from the most unlikely of places.

Running at the King’s Head Theatre from 13 May to 6 June 2026, the production is staged at Islington Square, 116P Upper Street, London, N1 1QP. Tickets can be booked via the show’s website at https://www.churchillsurinal.com.

In short: sharp, surprising, and thoroughly entertaining—this is satire with substance.