Dark Grumblings

Selling itself as the bastard child of Japanese horror and On the Buses, Dark Grumblings pulls off a clever satire of both genres while simultaneously terrifying and tickling its audience.

In a grim tower block of the kind prized by cult film directors, two hapless security guards – job centre Kenny and jobsworth Higgins – reluctantly find themselves humanity’s last hope against the forces of evil, manifested in a demon TV channel.

As the worst motifs of trash horror seep out of the screens and into the stairwells – swarms of flesh-eating flies, moaning zombies, moving walls – the channel also begins sucking in unwilling stars from amongst the building’s residents, who are surprised to see each other showing up in its hackneyed storylines.

Tim Lynskey and Matt Rutter take on the show’s entire cohort of larger-than-life characters – from a Polish TV repairman to a channel-surfing Liverpudlian and the mysterious widow Mrs Have-a-Sausage – with rubber-faced versatility and boundless energy, finishing the 70-minute slot exultantly sweat-soaked.

Video projections, nifty lighting and bone-rattling sound effects translate the cinematic aesthetic effectively onto stage, delivering an unusually immersive and at times genuinely petrifying experience.

Robert Farquhar’s sparkling script occasionally becomes transfixed by its own wit, lingering too long on a cult reference or repetitive gag, and bears some plot inconsistencies despite its knowing exposition.

Nevertheless, the reaction of the audience – alternately shaken with helpless laughter and stirred by the effect of the thunderous bass – is testament to its effectiveness.