Climbing the 52-step spiral staircase into the 18th-century Old Operating Theatre feels like stepping out of London and into another life. The air changes as you rise, quieter and closer, thick with old wood and the sense that the building has been watching people for centuries. Before the show even starts, the place is already doing its own kind of storytelling. We were gasping when we got to the top but gratefully were immediately greeted by a unique gift shop with unique, quirky things - like bathtub ducks wearing plaque masks. Moving through the shop we end up in an amazing treasure trove, a cabinet of old operating curiosities to explore. The final stage was the actual tiered operating theatre where we imagined operations happening in front of nervous students in times past.
But it is exactly the right kind of room for a night like this. For one evening, it becomes home to Dickens’ most enduring ghost story, A Christmas Carol, told in a way that feels made for this strange, intimate space.
And then Mat Jones walks in and, somehow, it is enough. Alone on that stage, he conjures a whole cast of characters and a whole city’s worth of mood, switching gears with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how to hold a room. It is not just that he can do a one-man show, it is that he makes you forget it is a one-man show with his beautifully vivid descriptions of Dickens' scenes, each one unfolding from him with the energy of an entire cast of characters in front of you.
This is Europe’s oldest surviving operating theatre, a place built for high stakes. Jones matches it with a performance that is precise, fearless, and full of life. From his first line, the atmosphere shifts. The audience leans in. The space stops being a museum and starts being a world, shaped by the rhythms of his voice and the sharp, playful detail of his character work.
That old attic operating theatre transforms in seconds. One moment it is a drafty London counting-house, all ink, cold ledgers, and stale air. Then, almost without warning, it brightens into a bustling, fire-lit Christmas party, full of movement and life.
The most vivid moment was Bob Cratchit’s home. Jones paints it with such warmth and care that you can practically feel the closeness of it, the love squeezed into every corner. I have heard this story countless times, but I do not think I have ever had that scene drawn so clearly in my mind. And somehow, all of this happens in a single night.
Hats off to Mat Jones. Watching him carry every character on his own is genuinely impressive. He shifts voice, rhythm, and posture so cleanly that you stop noticing the mechanics and simply follow the people. His timing is spot on too, knowing when to pause, when to drive the story forward, and when to let a moment sit.
What stood out most was how smart his storytelling choices were. He keeps the dialogue that matters, then slips into description at exactly the right moments to build the world around you. It is clear, confident, and beautifully judged. By the end, it does not feel like a clever one-man trick. It just feels like A Christmas Carol brought properly to life.
One moment, he is the personification of cold indifference. The next, he brings in the spectral chill of Marley’s ghost, and the temperature in the room seems to drop. With so little on stage, every choice matters, and Jones makes each one count. It is a reminder that you do not need spectacle to be spellbound. You just need a storyteller this good.
In a space this close, the story lands differently. It feels personal, almost as if it is being told directly to you, not a crowd. By the time the lights come up, you have had your shiver, your laugh, and that familiar lift of hope that A Christmas Carol always promises. This version breathes fresh life into a classic without losing any of its seasonal charm. It is the kind of night that puts you in the right frame of mind for December. The perfect start to Christmas.
