If ever there were a cure for the relentlessness of modern life – or indeed the intense juggle that is the school summer holidays – it may well be found within the ale-stained walls of The Jungle, the raucously loveable pub setting of The Choir of Man.
Part gig, part theatre, part old-fashioned lock-in, this Olivier-nominated show has been winning hearts in the West End since 2021 – and after one uproarious Tuesday night at the Arts Theatre, I understand exactly why.
My husband and I popped in half-way through the summer holidays for a well-deserved “date night” away from childcare duties. From the moment you take your seat (perhaps clutching one of the beers the lads hand out before the show has begun), you are made to feel not like an audience member, but a welcome regular.
At the centre of proceedings is The Poet (Paul McArthur), who spins tales from behind the bar like a modern-day bard, guiding us through an evening of song, story, and sink-side soul searching. This is The Choir of Man: nine ordinary blokes with extraordinary pipes, each with his own distinct flavour – from romantic Jason and cheeky Benji to Alex the tap-dancing dynamo and the heart-throb Rob, who seems to enjoy plucking unsuspecting women from the stalls and serenading them into bashful oblivion. There’s even the “Scottish Pavarotti” who bears a striking resemblance to Niles from TV show Frasier.
What unfolds is a celebration of male camaraderie that dispenses entirely with macho posturing. These are men unafraid to harmonise on Adele’s Hello or to deliver an emotionally-charged rendition of Luther Vandross’s Dance with My Father. The song list is a jukebox of guilty pleasures and anthemic floor-fillers, each cleverly re-imagined with stomping folk rhythms, tight harmonies and humour. One minute we’re roaring along to I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), the next we’re haunted by a stripped-back version of Sia’s Chandelier – my personal highlight of the night.
It’s a show full of surprises. The barman belting out Escape (The Piña Colada Song) while tearing his shirt off brings the house down. A urinal-based rendition of Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers delivers peak blokeish silliness. Throw in an electrifying performance of Queen’s Somebody to Love, and it’s like stumbling across the world’s greatest pub lock-in and discovering that everyone inside is secretly a world-class performer.
The entire set becomes an instrument – beer glasses become percussion, tables and stools are drummed, and at various intervals crisps and beer mats are gleefully hurled (sometimes catapulted!) into the crowd. Audience interaction is not just encouraged, it’s compulsory – someone near us was pressed into building a tower of beer mats, while others sang along with gusto, cheeks flushed and hands aloft. For a mere Tuesday night, the theatre was buzzing – teenagers, ladies’ nights, couples – all swept up in 90 minutes of unbridled joy.
Yet it’s not all laughter and lager. Towards the end, as The Poet muses on the fragility of life and friendship, we’re reminded that show is proudly partnered with CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably), a suicide prevention charity. It’s a subtle but powerful note, a reminder that pubs like The Jungle are more than watering holes: they’re refuges, confessionals, homes away from home. The finale, a spine-tingling, unamplified version of the traditional folk song The Parting Glass, sung without microphones, is an unfussy and heartfelt curtain call.
Created by Nic Doodson and Andrew Kay, with monologues by Ben Norris and music supervision from Jack Blume, The Choir of Man continues to prove that “feel-good” and “quality theatre” need not be mutually exclusive. With cast members rotating between London and Shanghai productions this autumn, familiar faces will be returning to the Arts Theatre until its last orders in January.
So, grab a pint. Sit back. Prepare to be serenaded and showered with crisps. And, raise a glass to The Jungle!
The Choir of Man runs Tuesdays until Sundays at the Arts Theatre, Great Newport Street, until 4th January 2026. Approximate running time: 90 minutes (no interval). For more information, and for tickets, please visit www.thechoirofman.com.
