Slugs ★★★★☆

★★★★☆ — Slugs

Slugs is queer unravelling at its most raw: a solo show built around monologue, memory and the strange correlations between sexual encounters and, yes, slugs.

At its heart, this is storytelling. Experiences of sex, desire and encounters through Chatroulette are retold with twists and turns, gradually revealing something much more complex beneath the humour. Consent and sexual assault sit within the darker layers of the work, explored through a distinctly queer lens without allowing the subject matter to completely consume the performance.

There is queer angst here in abundance: repulsion towards the self, desire battling shame, and the feeling of being almost pickled in that shame. Yet Slugs continually finds glimpses of light amongst the darkness. Funny moments arrive exactly when they are needed, giving the audience permission to laugh before the story pulls them somewhere unexpected again.

The performance itself feels smooth while remaining deliberately raw and natural. The solo format suits the intimacy of the material, while strong staging and thoughtful blocking prevent the monologue from ever feeling static. An excellent lighting design becomes another storytelling device, with abrupt changes making a genuine impact at key moments.

What makes Slugs particularly interesting is its structure. Stories that initially appear disconnected begin to find correlations, building a picture of queer sexuality that is complicated, uncomfortable, funny and deeply human.

Ultimately, Slugs is about navigating shame, consent, sex and identity and finding your way towards being your queer, authentic self.

A strange, slippery and surprisingly affecting hour of queer theatre. Slugs leaves a trail worth following.