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It’s loose, deliberately half-arsed, cabaret-style stuff, which means that when the stage revolve turns in the wrong direction it doesn’t matter. “Oh, we’re skiing backwards today,” simpers Karp, with an eye-roll. When it works it’s very funny, and it’s hard to get too irate at a show that mounts an onstage blizzard with confetti and a desk fan, and which invites us to pelt Sanderson with snowballs.
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