Hijinks are part and parcel when it comes to the work of Banksy. Aside from his medium and methods inherently being tied to stealth and surprise, the renowned graffiti artist is also well known for creative, pointed stunts involving his work. So with news going out that legendary actor Christopher Walken destroyed a Banksy in a scene of the BBC comedy The Outlaws, it is hard not to presume that this entire event went exactly as desired for Banksy.

The Outlaws, which just premiered last month, is a dark comedy that follows seven strangers fulfilling their community service. Christopher Walken’s character Frank, the American of the bunch, is shown painting over a graffiti-covered wall. A board falls down revealing the iconic image of one of Banksy’s rats with vibrant “BANKSY” painted just above. Despite Frank attesting that the work is “awfully good”, he reluctantly covers up the piece, essentially destroying a piece that could easily have been valued for millions.

A spokesperson of the BBC confirmed the authenticity of the piece as one of Banksy’s in a statement to The Guardian. With the show filming in Banksy’s hometown of Bristol, it’s no surprise to see a work of his appear. But it seems that the perspective on the story has gotten a bit skewed, framing it as a guerrilla piece by Banksy that the show unwittingly or foolishly destroyed.

In a video through his Twitter, Stephen Merchant explained that he had made contact with Banksy in order to commission the piece for the scene. And while the elusive artist is well known for shirking commercial endeavours and avenues, the concept of creating a piece made entirely to be admired by a meandering community service worker, only to be told to destroy it, feels inherently Banksy.

While it may be technically true that Christopher Walken destroyed a Banksy on The Outlaws, without a doubt the event is its own little piece of art. Understated, quick, and contextually sensational, the scene plays out as a masterful gag. If anything, Banksy has shown time and again, even in the destruction of his pieces, to not take the art world so seriously.

One creative boom that may not have been predicted over the last two years is the resurgence of the podcast. With audio gear and software more accessible than ever, it’s been an easy avenue for an individual with a mild interest in the field to dip their toes in. And while this may have resulted in a slew of less than stellar castoff projects, those of existing narrative skill have also been using it as a fresh avenue to share stories. Sound The Alarm music/theatre company is one such entity that has pivoted into this realm with their new program Theatre for the Ears, and their pilot audio-drama Starman is a gripping and unsettling window into the medium and the times we live in.

Starman, written by playwright Pippa Mackie and primarily performed by Kayvon Khoshkam, is a sobering looking into social alienation and mental health. Opening with the sombre narration of 43-year old main character Daryl before whipping into the first episode of his podcast, we are privy immediately to a man who has locked himself in his apartment and donned the name of Starman, all seemingly in an effort to free himself from society. The tone is set early and easily by virtue of the disconcerting scenario, emphasized all the more by virtue of Starman’s insistence on how well he is doing in his new, cyclical life of podcasting, jumping jacks, and eating pizza.

The mentality that is dug into in Starman is one all too familiar in the modern world. The interconnectivity of online mediums has created one of the simplest ways to disconnect from humanity at large. Through the withered interactions we hear between Starman and his audience, we can see an acidic and dark personality bubbling under his veneer; when hallucinogenics are added to the mix, his volatile mind is all the more clear. Veering between near-manic episodes and bleak spirals as he attempts to cold call a crush from his past, there is a sense of danger to the self conveyed, and an isolated contempt for the world.

Khoshkam’s performance as Starman is balanced on the edge of a knife, and it drives home the desperate mind the audience is experiencing. The timbre of his voice rises and falls in quick succession between a squeak of worry or thin self-assuredness before dropping into a guttural growl of anger towards the world. The natural, cheeky personality that rings so true of a friend’s amateur podcast twists seamlessly into a mind of pain and delusion, crafting a modern, mundane creator of Another Brick in the Wall. It is friendly, familiar, and frightening all at once.

Brent Hirose’s direction of the audio drama truly stands out as well. The ways in which the space of the audio is used for the podcast within the podcast grounds the performance so strongly. Hearing the meandering and exercising of Starman as he moves about the room seats us in the room beside him, and the ways in which reality begins to come undone blossom into a wilting cycle that truly satisfies. Much of the strength of these effects are also thanks to sound designer Malcolm Dow, whose atmosphere is the perfect antidote to the tone of Starman’s delivery—a looming, ethereal presence floating around the forced grin of a man spiralling down.

In every way, Starman is representative of what modern audio dramas could and should be. Crisp and gripping in its sound, believable and bracing in its performance, and stirring and striking in its subject matter. It is a strong first showing for the Theatre for the Ears program, which clearly has the benefit of its audience first in mind with discussions on the piece also available as well as mental health resources from the show’s page. Sound The Alarm has several more audio-dramas coming through the pipeline this coming year, and if they’re anywhere as entrancing as Starman, they’ll be well worth the listen.