I am growing ever-enamoured by sketch comedy – and, increasingly, it’s becoming one of my favourite forms the genre can take. Up until now, my experience has largely been rooted in university groups; but, what has always struck me is the sheer intellect required to craft a successful sketch: the ability to balance sharp conceptual thinking with something grounded, accessible, and genuinely funny. Frogbone Trombone strike that balance with impressive ease.

Formed by university friends continuing their comedy beyond their degrees, Frogbone Trombone brought their latest iteration to The Hen and Chickens Theatre Bar as part of SketchFest 2026 – a collaboration between The Hen and Chickens and Canal Café Theatre, both long-standing pillars of the comedy circuit. It felt like the perfect setting to encounter some new, exciting sketch comedy, and I was not underwhelmed.

The style of Frogbone Trombone is distinct. Rather than relying solely on nuance, Frogbone Trombone lean into bold, exaggerated concepts, committing to them with admirable confidence. When this works – which it frequently does – it works impeccably. The recurring thread of BBB (Big Ben Booze), framed as the evening’s “sponsor”, is a prime example. In Lowe Khawaja’s writing, and through Rüva Jari’s wonderfully stylised performance, we are introduced to a drink that “bongs”. Played as a persuasive advertisement, the sketch revels in caricature – aided by an ill-fitting suit and moustache – and lands with precision. Its success is amplified by clever structuring, bleeding into Khawaja’s The Goblin That Lives in Big Ben, which further mines the concept to excellent effect. Luke Pierce Powell’s performance here was a particular standout, fully committing to the absurdity while maintaining a sharp sense of control.

Audience interaction is another arena in which the troupe excel. The Goblin That Lives in Big Ben again proves exemplary: the goblin adopts the name “Aidan”, claiming humans cannot pronounce his real name – before producing an indistinguishable murmur and encouraging the audience to repeat it. The immediate reprimand – “no, you can’t say that” – is brilliantly timed, landing squarely in that sweet spot of playful discomfort.

This same instinct is harnessed to even greater effect in Max Hayes’ Stacy’s Mom Parody, the standout sketch of the evening. Framed as a musical exploration of Freud’s Oedipus Complex, with lyrics such as “my own mum has got it going on” and “my mum is a MILF” delivered by Freud himself, it is as ridiculous as it is meticulously constructed. The moment of audience polling – met with uneasy disagreement – triggers Freud’s visible spiral just as backing dancers enter, a perfectly judged escalation that showcases Hayes’ sharp comedic control.

Musical sketches, in fact, emerge as one of Frogbone Trombone’s greatest strengths – and a surprisingly under-explored device within sketch comedy. Rüva Jari’s Plagueside (Stateside Parody) is another highlight, reworking PinkPantheress’ Stateside into an X-Factor audition of the Bubonic Plague (Bubo), performed before Simon Cow and Cheryl Hole. Lyrics such as “you really are the next viral sensation” toe the line between clever and absurd, while the judges’ inevitable descent into coughing fits, and ultimately, death, provides a satisfyingly chaotic payoff.

That said, not every sketch sustains its momentum. A handful suffer from overextension, with strong concepts stretched beyond their prime reception. Will Chapman’s Young Kingpin begins with a sharp premise – bolstered by effective voiceover work – but becomes repetitive as it lingers too long. Similarly, The Goblin That Lives in Big Ben, despite an exceptional opening, loses some of its bite in its latter half, with an ending that feels less assured than its perfect setup promises.

Yet where some sketches falter, others demonstrate exactly how to strike the balance. Rüva Jari’s Nut Milk is a masterclass in controlled absurdity, maintaining pace, variation, and escalation throughout. Centred on a coffee shop offering “human” as a nut milk alternative (no, not breast milk…) it is outrageous, grotesque, and utterly hilarious without ever tipping into excess. Lydia Frost and Conor Naughton’s performances elevate it further, delivering the material with complete conviction, before the hilarious visual climax (excuse the pun) arrives.

The professionalism of the troupe is also worth noting. The evening runs smoothly, with props, costume changes, and technical elements handled seamlessly. If anything, the only slight friction lies in transitions between sketches, which occasionally feel a touch clunky. A sharper pace – or even the deliberate employment of music – could help to maintain momentum between segments, enhancing the professionalism even further.

Ultimately, Frogbone Trombone embody exactly what sketch comedy should be: a group of friends clearly relishing the act of making one another – and their audience – laugh. The show feels celebratory, embracing everything from the dark to the ridiculous with equal confidence. With some tightening of structure and more refined transitions, this is a troupe poised to reach even greater heights – but as it stands, they have a bright future ahead.

Image credit – Frogbone Trombone via @frogbonetrombone on Instagram.