This sweet but somewhat shaky piece of confessional vaudeville from real-life father and son John and Tom Frankland is disarmingly honest and endearingly done. But their idea of turning a recently discovered family secret into a two-man show needs more work before it hits a tight professional standard.
This is a nice notion: it's just a shame about the execution. On press night almost all the few props misbehaved – from an over-loud iPod to father John's downwardly mobile 1970s flared trousers. The show was inspired by the death of John's sister and the discovery of a stash of old love letters from her father, Len, to his wife.
Actually, Len is such a witty, tender, restrained exponent of the lost art of letter-writing that it's a pity we don't hear more from him – and it's annoying when the bits that are read are interrupted and overlaid by slightly lame funny business.
The final twist, although a long time in coming, suddenly elevates the show beyond a genial ramble into something far more personally and universally interesting. I suspect that, for the warm and witty Frankland and son, creating this ambitious, affectionate show together has been its own reward: if they take it further, the story and the setting need tightening up so they can share their epiphany more effectively with others.