Toby: Lucky

The attention-seeker is a species indigenous to the Fringe, migrating each summer to a habitat rich in limelight. But while compulsive showing off inspires many a festival run, for real-life sisters Sarah and Lizzie Daykin it’s the story of their lives.

In Lucky, double act Toby take sibling rivalry to an uncomfortably familiar low, their tussle for mum’s approval transposed into adulthood. The characters are fleshed out in a way only first-hand experience could afford, with family footage adding authenticity to a bitter concoction of dance lessons and deep-seated mutual hatred.

Front and centre, neurotic big sis Sarah is a domineering bitch recovering from a strange, destructive addiction. Stage right, downtrodden Lizzie cuts a tragic figure. Arms limp by her sides, a picture of quiet despair, she’s compelled by loyalty to let Sarah steer the show towards self-indulgent autobiography and its disastrous conclusion.

Though often pigeonholed as a sketch duo, Toby are poles apart from the peppy revue offered elsewhere. Latent loathing hangs over each offbeat, stilted routine, linking it into the Daykins' hostilities as they stare daggers and bicker in hushed tones.

It makes for uneasy viewing, shot through with agonising, Pinteresque pauses and cruel humour that draws both winces and sadistic cackles as Lucky creeps towards the mother of all blowups. 

So convincing is the friction between the sisters, it's hard to imagine it conjured from nothing. If there is indeed a kernel of truth to the Daykins' performance, their differences have presumably been settled. That they have seemingly turned them into something so darkly entertaining is a small miracle.