Review: Brixton Mondays, Fringe 2025

Brixton Mondays arrives at the Edinburgh Fringe for a short run, with a focus on elder male friendship in a South London setting.

Story and themes

The premise is engaging: a reunion of a five-a-side football team who used to play together on Mondays. The group have not seen each other in years, but the ritualistic return to the same curry house which they frequented since 1985 makes this show a great, relatable setting.

It’s a clever concept, the food and football, the staples of British male friendship, become the backdrop against which larger questions of life, death, and belonging are asked.

Anyone who has been part of a team, or simply shared long years of ritual meet-ups with friends, will recognise the rhythms of banter, the sudden eruptions of long-held grudges, and the uneasy silences. The absent “fifth man” gives the play a poignant mystery, while the appearance of a younger outsider watching the group from the corner injects a dose of intrigue. 

Performances

The ensemble cast clearly relish the chance to spar with each other. Their chemistry sells the idea that these men have known each other for decades, but yet don’t know each other at all, as life has stopped them from meeting.

There’s a lived-in quality to the dynamic, the interruptions, the running jokes, the petty arguments that flare up before quickly burning out. and when the actors hit the right groove, the exchanges feel both funny and painfully familiar.

The standout moments often come in quieter beats. One character’s trying to tell the group the ground-breaking news, the reason why they are all there that night!. Another moment is when the bystander comes into the play to enhance the story adding more backstory to the lives they have lived.

The play shifts confidently between light-hearted banter and more reflective moments, creating a rhythm that mirrors real-life conversations among old friends. At times the humour leans broad, while the deeper monologues reach for something more profound, giving the audience a mix of tones to enjoy. The story paints a recognisable and heartfelt picture of ageing friendship.

Atmosphere

The staging is intimate and unfussy: the curry house setting is evoked with just enough detail to conjure the warmth, tackiness, and familiarity of the kind of place where friendships linger over too many pints. Some scenes spark with energy, while others slow the pace to highlight the underlying story, creating a balance between comedy and the play’s more serious themes.

For those who grew up with football culture or curry-house rituals, there’s a strong resonance here. The audience chuckled knowingly at the in-jokes, and there were moments when laughter rolled around the room. However, not every joke landed.

The humour often leaned on South London references, which I personally appreciated as a South Londoner, but it sometimes left sections of the audience puzzled when only part of the room recognised the punchline.

The atmosphere is strongest in moments of shared nostalgia: the sense that these rituals are as much about clinging to youth as they are about staying connected. The play gestures towards big questions. Why do we hold onto rituals, and how do men navigate difficult conversations within friendships? But it doesn’t quite offer new insights. I also felt the story ended a little abruptly, without full resolution

Final thoughts

Brixton Mondays offers a heartfelt and humorous look at male friendship, rituals, and the passage of time. With strong performances and a relatable setting, it delivers plenty of charm, even if not every joke lands and the ending feels a touch abrupt.

A solid, enjoyable piece that will resonate most with those who recognise their own circles of friends in its characters.