Friction Burn. Hope Theatre.

H and S, the protagonists of Sophie Faurie’s short, dark slice of surreal humour, Friction Burn, are the kind of venomous game-playing couple who tell each other “we don’t lie anymore”. By which we can conclude this couple dissemble all the time, particularly about their respective relationships with the unseen Kay. “You slept with her” one barks, “you brought her into our home” the other retorts. This most toxic of relationships hangs not on a thread, but on the ominous red rope noose dangling from the stage ceiling.

H (Lewis Maines) determined to extract the truth about Kay from S (Sophie Faurie again), climbs a stepladder and puts his head through the noose. “People only care when they see the friction burns or slash marks” is the rationale he offers up for such performative nihilism. “Suicide’s made you a comedian” snarls S as she searches for the coco butter balm that, the couple both agree, smells like Willy Wonka’s excrement.

H jumps, S holds him up, only for them to argue about which emergency service his predicament now demands (they choose ambulance which seems a trifle premature). Anticipate plenty of game-playing, table turning, and bittersweet badinage.

The problem with absurdist comedy is often that it is not very funny. Faurie certainly stuffs her 40-minute show with plenty that is bizarre – “I am not happy; therefore, I must be sad” runs one of H’s many rather too formulaic non-sequiturs – but laughs are painfully few and far between. That is a shame, because underneath the surface Faurie has something to say about the addictive nature of toxic relationships. Broadly speaking the dialogue is a lot more interesting than the physical comedy here; adopting American accents and pretending to shoot at each other feels painfully like a filler.

The performances are good. Slim and melancholy, Maines plays H with the tone, diction, and manic hauteur of a young Richard E Grant. Faurie’s whining S is as self-justifying and manipulative as they come. Grace Bown and Edward Corbett’s live music – American fiddle-playing and top-notch guitar – is the highlight of the evening.

Writer: Sophie Faurie

Director: Léah Bonaventura