Honnef's Lost Words

Tim enthusiastically draws his audience down a rabbit hole of stories that seemed to be entwined around him. Was he talking about his life? Was this tale about the aftermath of a war? Was there to be a tragic suicide at the end? None of these emerged, but the journey through his labyrinth left us with a clear awareness that books were at the heart of this man’s soul. If it is a tranquil hour you are searching for then look no further. Tim will lull you into his tales, but be warned ….full attention is needed to follow the threads. I recommend this show.

This is a wonderful show. Tim is a fantastic storyteller; drawing you into his world until you don't notice the passing of time. Charming, funny, quirky. This is definitely one to watch.

The seething, chaotic heart of the fringe is undoubtedly George Square—a lawless mess of bars and scandalously overpriced street food, a riotous agora where ticket-flailing drunks bounce around like deranged pinballs. Especially if you stumble into this hellscape after working hours.

It's an overwhelming blitzkrieg on the senses, too much, too fast. But there I was, staggering towards Honnef’s Lost Words at the ungodly hour of 11:50 a.m., only to find a bizarrely serene tableau. Dads saddled with sticky-fingered kids and mums chasing them around, their laughter the only sound breaking through the haze of performer hangovers. These bedraggled artists, desperately trying to offload flyers before their paracetamol wears off.

Joining the modest queue, I eavesdropped, hunting for any hints from the crowd about past experiences with Tim's shows. (Full disclosure: I’ve seen several.) However, no prior exposure is necessary, but Tim’s long tenure at the fringe has cemented his status. His work is described as an "institution," a "staple"—a desperately needed antidote to this year's fringe, which feels more like a bloated comedy circuit on steroids. But rather than spiralling into that debate, let me implore you to witness a show that’s both sad and thoughtful.

Each of Honnef’s performances is a chapter in a sprawling universe he’s meticulously crafting—a legacy of spoken word, a life’s story told by others, a metaphorical labyrinth that somehow, poetically, resolves itself.

Stepping into the venue, you’re greeted, acknowledged—you exist within the show’s reality. Audience participation can be divisive, but not here. Tim’s tranquil presence lulls you into a rare state of calm: “this will be a different kind of trip”, you think. And by "different," I don’t mean the overhyped, manic, once-in-a-lifetime fusion of improvised dark-sketch horror cabaret with a trendy twist on an old text by swapping genders or employing some other gimmick. No, this is different because it harkens back to a seemly lost art.

Over what feels like the fastest hour of your life (depending on your current cocktail of anxiety meds), Honnef methodically demonstrates the sheer power of solid writing, letting the words do the heavy lifting in his mostly still, meditative murmuration—an autobiographical memoir, or what’s left of one.

You could comfortably sit there, eyes closed, and be swept away by the narrative. However, this show demands engagement; it’s not the passive spectatorship of much modern theatre but a wellness practice, A wellness practice, that writing, clearly is to Honnef. You can feel it—the hope, the calming sensation of being better, being comfortable, the stillness of just being okay.

This show harks back to the truest forms of storytelling, a practice so ancient and venerable that seems all to easily forgotten by our heads in phones, only listen to the sound bites, TLDR, I just read the headlines generation. I don’t think we know how to do it—or at least how to do it as well as it’s done here.

So, I implore you, dear reader, to drag yourself away from the predictable stand-up acts and cookie-cutter performances that dominate the fringe. Dive headfirst into Honnefs world. It's a rare oasis in the desert of frantic mediocrity—a slow burn of profound storytelling that defies the garish neon glare of its surroundings. This isn't just another show; it's a visceral experience, a baptism in the forgotten art of narrative purity. You’ll emerge on the other side feeling cleansed, your faith in the power of words restored. So, take the plunge. Embrace the madness. Allow yourself to be pulled into Honnef’s orbit and witness the magic of a storyteller at the peak of his craft. Because in a festival teeming with noise and nonsense, this is the quiet, commanding voice you’ve been searching for.

We very much enjoyed this warm, engaging, one man show. An ode to creativity and words, that made us smile! Thank you!

Lovely engaging story telling, heartwarming, intelligent, different. Don't try miss him!