Once again it is time to enjoy the free (if not freely given) hospitality of a theatre, for a brief period until security arrives, in order to deliver the awards some folk would rather not win.
This year, Hampstead Theatre are our unwitting hosts. Obviously, this is a “couples only” event as they don’t admit single people who use computers to buy tickets. So, help yourselves to their facilities and count yourself lucky you don’t have any issue that sees you as one of their unwanted.
To deliver, as always, the real awards first:
Theatremonkey Gold Medal: to Paul Hunter at “Rhinoceros” (Almeida Theatre, April 2025). His character opened this surrealist comedy by asking the audience to wave their arms to copy a series of actions. A voice from the front row alerted him that two audience members there were sight impaired. Mr Hunter instantly began “audio describing” his moves for them. Simple adaptation for instant inclusivity, making this performance special for every single person watching.
Theatremonkey Silver Medal: to Lance at the Open Air Theatre, Regent’s Park. The monkey is not a native smartphone user, and was upset to find that the programme for “Dream Ballets” was only available by QR code. On pointing out this exclusionary policy, Lance promptly offered to print out a copy of the programme – and delivered it personally to the monkey’s seat. Real kindness, and the Park promise to sort the situation for future events, too.
Theatremonkey Silver Medals: to the Front of House team at the Donmar Warehouse (August 2025). Three young ushers came to the assistance of an elderly lady who couldn’t turn her I-phone off. Constantly ringing and announcing texts, they first went with her into the foyer to try and sort it, and finally simply looked after the phone so that she could enjoy the final act. All without major disruption to the audience around her, and without adding to her already growing distress.
And now to the fun stuff…
A Lego Death Star (with working laser) to: Paige Seber, lighting designer for “Titanique.” By hanging 3 motorised lights on a rail and turning them on the monkey’s corner of the auditorium, she managed to administer retinal burn to several rows of paying customers. So, she may as well go the whole hog now.
A Complex Oxymoron Dictionary to: The Young Vic Theatre box office. A performance was cancelled. The monkey rang to exchange its ticket – and was told they don’t do that over the phone, it would have to email (and likely not get the single seat left). A box office that can’t sell tickets is not a box office – and you can’t call it a helpline either, though the staff were very polite and they did refund the price difference within 24 hours, which was excellent.
Order of the Ancient Mariner to: Charlotte Neville, prop maker extraordinaire. Nobody could have done a finer job of putting a surprised / outraged expression on the face of the seagull puppet, shot during the play of the same name, at the Barbican in March 2025. For those close enough to see it, it was a highlight of the whole production.
A mention in the Book of Job to: Carrie Hope Fletcher. Her big emotional moment in “Calamity Jane” ruined by some audience members singing the final word before she did. Hope Fletcher ignored the singers, the stalls laughter and hit the note perfectly. Apparently not the first time on the tour it happened. So, concurrently, a closed sign on the pharmacy door when they have a sore throat, to all those who chose to sing along and ruin it for the cast and other audience members alike.
Snow White’s Mirror to: Lily Simpkiss as Helena, at the Bridge Theatre in July 2025. Bewailing her ugliness from a plinth, a little girl’s voice from the promenade audience pipes up, “you’re not.” A pointed finger and “I really am” was the best laugh of the show, and superb quick thinking.
Blackpool’s Golden Mile (for sheer front) to: the woman in stalls A25 at the Barbican Theatre. Two other ladies arrived, with tickets for A24 and 25. Woman incumbent denied she was in the wrong seat until an usher spotted that her ticket was for a month’s time. Woman incumbent then claims staff checking tickets said it would be fine for her to use it. Monkey does note that others with brains as well as front might have hung around and simply taken any unoccupied seat… ironically there was one unsold just 2 along from the scene of the squatting… Concurrently, a stick of rock (inserted) to the person who thought they could squat the monkey’s seat for the final act of “Juniper Blood” at the Donmar Warehouse. Just because someone leaves their seat at the interval to attend to a call of nature, does not mean they have abandoned it – sitting “hopefully” there will not change that.
The Pub Landlord’s Finger of Shame to: the couple in stalls C1 and 2 at the Savoy Theatre. Leaving a tall glass under the monkey’s seat (B1) as they bolted out of the theatre near the end – “to beat the crowd” as they whispered. That stupidity a) left dangerous glass on the floor to be kicked over and b) stopped the monkey’s seat flipping up, meaning a whole row had to dodge an extra hazard. Twerps.
The Iroquois Memorial Wreath to: Haworth Tompkins and Troubadour Theatres. For designing a venue that may pass local licencing rules but feels unsafe. Narrow (badly signposted) corridors to seats, and only one public-use staircase for all 1200 people to use at the end of the show. The monkey doesn’t make this award for fun, and hopes nothing will ever happen, but it feels this venue is only one falling customer away from tragedy. Through raising it here, it only hopes someone will take it seriously.
A hardback publishing contract to: The London Palladium “Sleeping Beauty” programme writers. Enough history in its £12 glossy pages to suggest that an entire hardback book on the past 10 years would be excellent, next holiday season. Meanwhile, best programme the monkey has read in years.
And that’s its awards for another year. The monkey will try to use an inclusive venue next time, until then, have a wonderful 2026 of theatre, and may the box offices be always in your favour.