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For someone who grew up with the books of Roald Dahl, the idea of dining with Mr and Mrs Twit is about as appealing as private tutorials with Miss Trunchbull. However, immersive theatre company Les Enfants Terribles, having recently taken us down the rabbit hole with Alice and to Victorian London’s cobbled streets with Sherlock Holmes, invite you to do just that. The result, happily,cheap jordans, in the week we celebrate Dahl’s centenary, is truly revolting.


How the author would have felt about his most hideous creations being turned into an immersive, theatrical dining experience in the vaults underneath Waterloo Station is a matter of conjecture. However, I’d wager he’d have liked the Ghastly Garden, where the monkeys serve the canapés and cocktails in between applying a fresh coat of Hug-Tite glue to the trees.


If you have the stomach, prepare to snack on appetisers of writhing worms (spaghetti,cheap retro jordans, I’m assured), lumps of battered pigeon (chewy) and bloodied chickens’ heart (genuinely disgusting). Culinary innovators Bompas & Pass have prepared the menu and they have managed to combine the palatable with the outright stomach churning. Here’s a tip: take the thistle out of your Sting & Tonic before you have a sip. Ouch. Thanks, Mr and Mrs Twit.









Chris Barlow and Lizzy Dive as Mr and Mrs Twit

Credit: Alastair Muir







By the time you’re sat down to dinner in the Twit’s enormous conservatory, you begin to be suspicious of every morsel put in front of you. It is deliciously horrible, though the main course – bird pie, of course – turns out to be a little bland and lacks the sheer imagination that went into the unappetising appetisers.


Chris Barlow and Lizzy Dive are anything but bland as the ghastly Twits, helped no end by Samuel Wyer’s wonderful, grotesque costumes. To call the pair larger than life would be a disservice; they are larger than everything. Dive in particular is magnificent; her Mrs Twit an insane, billowing, mangled diva. All mad staring eyes and grotty tombstone teeth, she looks like a Valkyrie who’s crawled ten miles through a bog.


As you snack – carefully, doubtfully – the gruesome twosome hold court. You are there, ostensibly, to celebrate the renewal of Mr and Mrs Twit’s wedding vows. While we don’t get a full retelling of Dahl’s story, familiar scenes bubble up as the loathsome couple parade around, bickering and sniping between courses. It’s a bit like having a school dinner with the most awful, tyrannical dinner ladies imaginable.









Monkeying around: (L-R) James Keningale, Tom Moores and Alice Bounce

Credit: Alastair Muir







The Twits are not, of course, a romantic couple and the main thing that bonds them is a mutual desire to get one over on the other (like a lot of long-married couples): Mrs Twit prepares a horrible cocktail, with our help, which includes her glass eye; Mr Twit tricks his wife into drinking his bath water.




The main action comes from their unfortunate monkey circus (Alice Bounce, James Keningale and Tom Moores), who implore the audience for help whenever the Twits are out of sight. Is this theatre with dinner or dinner with theatre? Both aspects have plenty of invention and wit, but both also lack the substance to truly satisfy your appetite.


While your meal comes with regular interjections from the Twits and their monkey slaves, the rituals of eating (waiters patiently explaining what things are, dirty plates being cleaned away, actually eating the stuff that’s in front of you) create longueurs in the evening, which are exacerbated by the cavernous dining area. That said, some moments are horribly thrilling – the fate of one monkey is entirely spectacular; the appearance of another Dahl creation towards the end is delightful.









Credit: Alastair Muir






The main drawback is simple. The company wanted to create a Dahl experience for adults, to bring back that sense of childlike adventure and wonder. However, throughout it all, I couldn’t help but think how much children would enjoy it. It’s made for them. Yes, they can’t partake in quite so much of the sponsored gin, but they would be enthralled by the presence of the looming, terrible Twits.


And now, the rub. The ticket prices are eye-watering. Yes, dinner is obviously included. Drinks too. But even the cheapest pair of tickets will cost you more than ?150. A copy of The Twits will set you back a fiver.


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