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It's 11 o'clock in the morning in a council flat on the Walworth Road in London. In two hours time, as is normal, three Irish men will have consumed six cans of beer, 15 crackers with spreadable cheese, ten pink biscuit wafers and one oven cooked chicken with a strange blue sauce. In two hours time, as is normal, five people will have been killed.
Filled with physical comedy and an ever-rising body count, The Walworth Farce has wowed audiences from Galway to Edinburgh, London to New York, solidifying Enda Walsh's reputation as one of the dazzling wordsmiths of contemporary theatre.
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