Linus Karp Was Hit With An Umbrella at Underbelly Bristo Square Review

Awkward Productions have become something of a Fringe institution. After the huge sell-out hits Diana: The Untold and Untrue Story and Gwyneth Goes Skiing, the company return with something considerably more personal: the true story of what happened when Linus Karp was attacked in Soho for being visibly queer. There is still plenty of camp, audience interaction and theatrical silliness — and, naturally, an impressively shameless number of attempts to turn the show into a pitch for Soho Theatre — but underneath all this is a genuinely frightening story.

In 2024, Karp was walking hand-in-hand with his partner Joseph through Soho when a man struck him over the head with an umbrella and hurled homophobic abuse at them. Joseph chased and restrained the attacker while waiting for police to arrive. Karp doesn't spare us the details, nor does he attempt to make light of what happened. Instead, the show explores the attack and its aftermath: the police investigation, the fear, the anger, the paranoia and the unsettling realisation that somewhere you once considered safe can suddenly feel very different.

There are statistics, advice, and recordings of the actual 999 call Joseph made during the attack. It makes for uncomfortable listening. What was chilling, I found the mundanity of the violence particularly terrifying. There is no grand cinematic build-up to hate. It is simply two people walking down a street holding hands.

Yet Karp refuses to let the show become an hour of misery. Awkward Productions' trademark comedy is woven throughout, from audience members being recruited into the story to Karp finding increasingly elaborate reasons to mention Soho Theatre. The comedy makes the subject more accessible without ever trivialising it, and there is something wonderfully defiant about making queer joy the show's ultimate response to queer hatred.

The imagined courtroom in the final act is where the piece really finds its theatrical muscle, allowing Karp to confront the justice that real life failed to provide. 

Karp's story is compelling enough to carry the show by itself however, and some of the adjacent anecdotes, extended jokes and audience interactions slow the momentum. Having spectators stand up to deliver individual lines or tweets can feel less like something the narrative requires and more like Awkward Productions ticking the audience-participation box. I enjoyed much of the padding; I just didn't always need it.

Still, when Karp is telling his story, the room becomes remarkably intimate. He speaks with the ease of someone telling a friend about something terrible that happened to them, allowing the horror to sit alongside ridiculousness, tenderness and rage.

Linus Karp Was Hit With An Umbrella is funny, frightening, sincere and occasionally frustrating. But ultimately it is a celebration of what queer visibility can look like when hatred tries to make it disappear. The attack may be the reason this story exists, but it emphatically isn't allowed to become its legacy. Queer joy gets the last word — and frankly, it is a much better ending.

Linus Karp Was Hit With An Umbrella is playing at Underbelly Bristo Square at 20.20 until 30th August 

★★★★

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Written by Liam Arnold for Theatre and Tonic, August 2026.