There’s a moment early on in FULL HOUSE when you realise this isn’t just a bingo night. The numbers are being called, the familiar rhythms of dabbers and anticipation fill the room (honestly, I thought I was going to win), and Sam, tonight’s host, is doing her job with warmth and quick wit. And then you clock the urn. Sitting there quietly, heavy with meaning, it shifts the whole atmosphere. The question settles in the audience. What is really going on here?
That tension between the expected and the quietly unsettling is what makes Full House such a compelling piece of theatre. Written and performed by HANNAH LAD, and currently playing at Sherman Theatre until this evening (7th February), this is a show that uses the simple, familiar structure of a Valleys bingo night to explore grief, connection and the strange ways we keep going when life knocks us sideways.
Sam is our host, bright, funny and welcoming. She knows how to work a room, how to get a laugh, how to keep things moving. But cracks slowly appear. The patter slips. Certain jokes land with a little too much force. The urn becomes impossible to ignore. As the numbers roll on, so does Sam’s story, revealing loss that is still raw and love that refuses to disappear quietly.
Be prepared to participate. The show only works when we in the audience are fully immeresed in the ‘Bingo’ experience.
Watch the trailer HERE.
Hannah’s writing is sharp and generous. The humour is immediate and recognisable, rooted in the rhythms of Valleys life without ever feeling forced or nostalgic for its own sake. We all laughed easily and often, but those laughs are earned. They come from character rather than gag, from observation rather than cheap punchlines. When the sadness arrives, it does so gently, catching you off guard because you are already invested.
As a performer, Hannah is remarkable. Holding an audience alone on stage for the duration of the show is no small feat, particularly when the piece relies so heavily on direct address and interaction. She navigates the shifts in tone with confidence, moving seamlessly from broad comedy to moments of stillness that land with real emotional weight. Sam feels like someone you might genuinely meet at a local hall, someone you would happily trust to call your numbers and maybe, unknowingly, your feelings too.
What works especially well is how Full House refuses to over explain itself. The urn is there. Its presence is unsettling and sad and occasionally absurd, just like grief itself. The play allows space for the audience to sit with that discomfort, to laugh through it and sometimes because of it. There is no big speech spelling out what loss means. Instead, it unfolds in small, human moments that feel honest and earned.
The Valleys setting is worn proudly but lightly. This is not a caricature or a heritage piece. It is a lived in world, full of warmth, resilience and a particular kind of humour that acknowledges hardship without being defined by it. The joy comes from community, from shared rituals like bingo, from showing up even when you are not sure you can.
By the time the final numbers are called, Full House has done something quietly impressive. It has entertained, surprised and moved its audience without ever tipping into sentimentality. It understands that laughter and sadness often sit side by side, especially when we are dealing with love and loss. You leave feeling like you have had a genuinely good night out, but also like you have been trusted with something personal.
This is theatre that knows exactly what it is and does not try to be anything else. It is funny, thoughtful and full of heart. If you have ever sat in a bingo hall, loved someone deeply or tried to keep it together in public when things are falling apart in private, this show will speak to you.
FULL HOUSE is on at the Sherman Theatre in Cardiff until tomorrow (7th February), so you’ll need to be quick. This is definitely a show worth shouting HOUSE for. To get tickets and more details, go HERE.
