Anna Burnside reviews a ‘lumpy’ production that ‘would take a hard heart not to be moved by’.
A funeral procession makes its way down the aisle of Oran Mor. To a booming rock opera soundtrack, black netting widow’s weeds brush the pie-munchers on either side.
It turns out that we gathered here to say goodbye to Georgia and Frida. They are Hannah’s boobs. We will mourn their passing via every titty pun in existence with plenty of visual jokes thrown in.
The start of Hannah Howie’s autobiographical show about her diagnosis with the BRCA2+ gene is - well - lumpy. The gag-heavy tone verges towards panto, then segues into Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain”.
Georgia and Frida - personified by Gregor John-Owen and Kirsty Malone - repurpose Cabaret as a tribute to Howie’s granny, Agnes. This is not what Bob Fosse intended.
Around 20 minutes in, however, Funeral for My Boobs moves beyond the Pavillion-level humour and becomes something more interesting. The jukebox musical soundtrack continues: there’s some balloon clowning and references to Wicked and Celine Dion that went shooting over my head.
What changes is the tone. A personal story emerges out of the song and dance routines: here is a young woman facing down the chance of developing the breast cancer that has already taken so many women in her family. Including Agnes.
This is not a perfect show, but it would take a hard heart not to be moved by Howie’s decision to see off her mammaries in a leotard and fishnet tights.
Funeral for My Boobs performs at Oran Mor’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint until May 9, 2026. It then performs at The Gaiety in Ayr (14-16 May) and Assembly Roxy (20-24 May).
Photo by Tommy Ga-Ken Wan.
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