Bananas should not be terrifying, yet in lenny they become the sharpest metaphor for self-doubt. Alfie Webster writes and performs this one-man play about a queer man in his late twenties who feels like a side character in his own life. Instead of wine bars and quiet nights, he spirals through drug-fuelled clubs, cleaning popcorn at a cinema job, and drifting further from the stability he once imagined.

The opening is absurd and unforgettable. Lenny tells us:
“I just had a dream about having sex with a banana.”

It sets the tone for a journey that is funny, grotesque, and painfully true. The banana becomes his inner critic, mocking his every attempt at intimacy. Webster balances humour with raw vulnerability, slipping from sharp comic riffs into moments of real despair.

Beneath the comedy lies a friendship that gives the story its heart. Carly, Lenny’s only constant, has been there since childhood, protective yet equally fragile. When her voice note finally lands, accusing him of not truly seeing her, the theatre falls into an audible silence. It is devastating in its simplicity and Webster performs it with both tenderness and brutal honesty.

Lenny’s pursuit of romance comes with humiliations and fleeting highs. A toilet encounter with Jack is messy and awkward, yet briefly promising. At an exhibition, Jack flatters him, but Lenny cannot shake the banana’s voice in his head or the conviction that love equals dominance and control. The play shows how self-doubt can twist desire into something toxic, and how easy it is to hurt the people closest to us when blinded by loneliness.

Sarah Stacey’s direction heightens the intimacy of the piece, giving Webster space to shift between characters and moods. Mim Houghton’s set, a stark white cube, transforms into cinema, nightclub, or simply the inside of Lenny’s mind. Gabriel Finn’s lighting slides from neon haze to harsh exposure, while Raffaela Pancucci’s sound pulses between dreamy beats and the flicker of a projector. These elements create a fragile, shifting world where Lenny never quite feels at home.

What makes lenny so striking is its refusal to indulge in familiar queer tragedy while still showing the weight of loneliness. Webster breaks the fourth wall, drawing the audience into his confession, and in those moments of closeness it is impossible not to root for him. His writing is sharp, comic, and tender, every syllable carefully placed. He embodies a flawed, selfish, funny, and frightened man who is all too recognisable.

By the end, Lenny sits in the projection booth, older, still threading film reels. He admits:
“I take it for what it always was. It’s just a banana.”

It is not a romcom ending. Instead, Lenny recognises something quieter, that being himself, lowercase full stop, is already enough.

As a one-man show, lenny is witty, heartfelt, and perfectly paced. Webster’s performance entertains and carries real emotional weight. It is a reminder of why we go to see plays in the first place, to laugh, to be moved, and to feel alive. lenny delivers all of that and fully earns its five stars.

Written by Lex Melony

Tickets available at: www.omnibus-clapham.org

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