shows 

 
 theatre 

A foot-stomping, hand-tapping show set in a magical wasteland, where anything is possible and friendship is everything. Packed with dance and percussion, this playful hour for families unfolds when two strangers find their feet through made-up games and folk-filled fun.

“Wondrously timeless”

The Irish Times

 
 

Our ever-evolving sketch-comedy-dance show is filled with our favourite dance routines, weirdest videos and most twisted cabaret acts of the past ten years. Jam-packed with electro-pop bangers, this is folk dance for the post-pop generation.

"With hands and feet, the rhythms are wittily sharp...very funny"

The Independent

 Outdoor 
 

Stuck with each other and stuck in a rut! Our outdoor show takes a whimsical look at the ups and downs of sticking together. The piece centres on two characters stuck in the monotony of life. Pushed to the edge by their competitive natures, will they find resolution? (SPOILER: they do!) 

"Injecting some relevance into the folky dance genre"

 New York Times

 Cabaret 
 
 
hands
 

This act has taken us around the world and back again. We've played big venues (Sydney Opera House, Roundhouse), tiny venues (Bumkin, Brompton Club), birthday parties (Roxette) and Bat Mitzvahs (she wanted One Direction but got us instead). For 16 years and older.

"Dancing like you’ve never seen it before" 

Time Out, London

Work
 

A Britney-Warhol-Kraftwerk homage originally conceived for the club at Rose.Rabbit.Lie, Las Vegas. These fun and freaky androgynous space twins have appeared on TV, rode through Ibiza on the back of a moped and have entertained club kids from Paris to Montreal, Dublin to Dubai.

"A dopamine rush"

The Irish Times

Tapping, skipping, vogueing, whacking. The chav ballerinas premiered in our first live shows at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. They had their first cabaret outing at the Roundhouse in 2011 and we still haven't managed to kill them off. 

"The exhilaratingly original Up & Over It - 

two ex-River Dancers liberate the dance form"

The New Statesman