X

Newsletter Signup

Subscribe for information about our upcoming shows, news, reviews, photographs, exclusive sneak peeks as well as information on ways for you to get involved and support Theatre Alibi. Tick the boxes below and let us know what you would like to receive;

We will not share your details with any 3rd parties and will only contact you with information which is relevant to you. If at any point you wish to be dropped from our mailing list this option will always be open to you!

X

High Muck-a-Muck

By Daniel Jamieson

Mister Mac’s a puppeteer in Bobolenko’s Travelling Show. And boy, is he RUBBISH… Word’s out that Mac’s gonna be shovelling wolf dung unless he finds a new act fast. So he gets himself a high falutin’ new puppet who takes the crowd by storm. But that gal’s way too big for her wooden boots, a High Muck-a-Muck who’s set her sights on daring deeds far beyond the circus and poor old Mac…

A humdinger of a show featuring live acts, live music and stupendous puppets.
Yes-indeed-ee!

Publicity Image

Rózsa Farkas plays the Cymbalom - music composed by Thomas Johnson
Photos by Steve Tanner

Tour Dates

Tour dates coming soon... keep an eye on this page for details!

Credits

Cast: Stephen Cavanagh, Derek Frood & Jordan Whyte
Musician: Rózsa Farkas (Cimbalom)

Writer: Daniel Jamieson
Director: Nikki Sved
Designer: Trina Bramman
Composer & Musical Director: Thomas Johnson
Company Stage Manager: Elaine Faulkner
Design Assistant: Bek Palmer

Ingenious storytelling…Delightful
The Stage

Writer's Note

This is a story about a wooden puppet. It’s also a story about growing up.

Growing up is a mysterious business for anyone. When does it start? When does it stop? Have you got to make it happen or does it happen by itself? How come some “grown-ups” are tall enough to change a light bulb without standing on a chair but can’t help giggling at a man on TV wobbling a toy rabbit on a jelly?

Imagine how hard it would be if you had to grow up in just a few days like the wooden puppet in our story…

One moment you’re lying there asleep in a block of wood; the next, you’ve been chipped out and plonked on your own two new little feet. All at once you’ve got to learn things the rest of us would take years to get the hang of – eating peas with a fork, spelling rhinoceros, doing a handstand on the back of a galloping horse…

Let’s say you’re so clever you can do all that no problem. But somehow you still don’t feel grown up. How can I be finished, you wonder? How can I be more me?

Whether we’re made of flesh and blood or wood, what magic ingredient rounds us off as human beings?

Daniel Jamieson