A village green, a little big top - and War and Peace. Sometimes large ambitions come in the smallest packages, and one can only take one’s hat off to the ambitious, pocket-sized Giffords Circus for setting out to squish Tolstoy’s four-volume epic of love and internecine war into a very small sawdust ring, with horses, jugglers, aerialists, clowns and gymnasts. And as you park your car on the green and wander over under the quiet afternoon sky to the cute white tent where a rackety little brass band is parping and blaring from inside (and check out the “War and Pizza” trailer for the interval), you are in for a ridiculously good time.

If you’re looking for a surprising and off-the-wall show this school holidays, I’ve no hesitation in hugely recommending Chouf Ouchouf, a brilliantly and theatrically inventive acrobat theatre show performed by the Groupe Acrobatique de Tangier, a troupe of Moroccan acrobats who learned their awesome skills on Tangier Beach. Through the wit and imagination of its Swiss theatre directors, the show manages to retain a lively street smell and yet pull off some deft theatrical effects, blurring the edges between normality and strangeness - one moment you feel you might be walking in a souk, the next you’ve been sucked into a darkling, ghostly world of surreal human balancing acts.

At last a terrific show in this year’s mime festival - Du Goudron et des plumes (Tar and Feathers), in which you gasp at the brilliance with which the French acrobatic troupe, Compagnie MPTA/Mathurin Bolze, invent a wondrously unstable world on a swinging raft that's deliciously mad and imaginative. It’s as if echoes of a children’s game on swings had suddenly mushroomed into a sphere of its own sound and motion laws, and in the dark, bare Barbican Theatre is a perfect place to watch it. Hurry - you have just two nights left.

At last a terrific show in this year’s mime festival - Du Goudron et des plumes (Tar and Feathers), in which you gasp at the brilliance with which the French acrobatic troupe, Compagnie MPTA/Mathurin Bolze, invent a wondrously unstable world on a swinging raft that's deliciously mad and imaginative. It’s as if echoes of a children’s game on swings had suddenly mushroomed into a sphere of its own sound and motion laws, and in the dark, bare Barbican Theatre is a perfect place to watch it. Hurry - you have just two nights left.

In National Anthem, the debut play by bestselling novelist Colin Bateman, a composer lies prostrate on the floor. Half hungover, half waiting for inspiration, he has been commissioned to co-write an anthem for Northern Ireland with a poet and has a day to do it before flying back to his continental tax haven. The ad-hoc alliance soon fractures as differences emerge. One is Catholic, passionate and pretentious, one has sold his Protestant soul to MOR rock and platinum sales. Can the two sides work in harmony?

Whether you think the weird world of Walter Potter is cute or creepy, there’s little doubt that the Victorian taxidermist, and creator of humorous tableaux in which fluffy creatures enact human scenarios, has acquired some standing in the art world. When his museum collection went under the hammer at Bonham’s in 2003, Damien Hirst, David Bailey, Harry Hill and Peter Blake each bid for valuable items. Now each has contributed to an exhibition that not only recreates part of Potter’s original museum, but invites us to celebrate the quirky art of the outsider artist.

It's hard to overestimate the importance of Goethe's Faust to the German soul, though I did once have a German friend who valued George Eliot's Middlemarch more highly. If there's a real English competitor to Goethe in the literary stakes, it is of course Shakespeare, but that doesn't really work either, because, when not thinking of Goethe, many Germans consider Shakespeare neither better nor worse; simply theirs.

Archaos were the mad, bad and dangerous troupe who revolutionised circus back in the Eighties and early Nineties – their antics with juggling chainsaws, raunchy Galllic attitude and mayhem with motorbikes is celebrated with a pop-up exhibition at the Bargehouse in the Oxo Tower Wharf on the South Bank for just three days ending on Sunday. It’s also a tribute to the genial genius behind the troupe, Pierre Bidon, who died earlier this year, at the age of 56.

Charm is as invisible as the circus but as undeniably present in Le Cirque Invisible, an adorable little presentation for which parents should go miles with children to see this month. Charlie Chaplin’s fourth daughter and her husband are not young things any more, and their two-person show is at least 40 years old in its various guises - but they simply keep adding and subtracting gags, costumes, dressing-up box illusions, magic tricks, rabbits, soap-bubbles, locking down a hall of children and parents for two and a half hours in raptures.

As we look on the strictly dieting future that undoubtedly waits for the more esoteric arts after Thursday’s election, it’s evident that the dance landscape has already been blighted - and self-blighted, at that. Somewhere in the past few years a loss of confidence in dancing itself has allowed expressive and aesthetic exploration to become increasingly replaced by undemanding scenic gimmicks and numb circus derivations, subtle matters by dim clichés. My depressed thoughts after watching two of the middle scale shows that used to be common all over Britain and now are scarce as hens’ teeth.