The Madness of George Dubya, Arts, London<br></br>Faster, BAC, London<br></br>Debris, Latchmere, London<br></br>The Nest, Arcola, London

I don't say you won't get your hair a little mussed...

The war's over apparently. All done and dusted. A roaring success, so we're told. Everyone's happy.

No better time, then, to catch Justin Butcher's stealth bomber of a show, The Madness of George Dubya. "We're having a war on tourism," a pajama-ed, teddy-clutching Dubya informs us at the start. It's those "brown folk who do bad things" who are to blame, he insists, and as President of, er, well as President, he's going to do the right thing and unleash his weapons of mass distraction on Iraqistan. Or is it Pakirajasthan? Whatever, he's going to get that bad man his daddy tried to get rid of, Saddama Bin Laden.

OK, so it's not subtle, and its student-revue-style antics – soldiers in fishnets, a cockney cleaning lady and some ropey satirical songs – can grate, but when Dubya hits the mark, it has a devastating effect. Butcher updates the script daily to accommodate the latest developments in the Middle East, but the story – gleefully plundered from Kubrick's Dr Strangelove – basically stays the same: a US general has gone berserk and ordered an unprovoked nuclear strike on Iraqistan. The Pres is holed up in a bunker and incommunicado; Tony's frankly a little worried, but then he has had a good offer on his flat; and the only person who knows the recall code is Yasmina The Office Cleaner, who just happens to be a member of Al-Q'aida...

Despite the swingeing topicality of the subject-matter, it's the little details – like Blair's forced bonhomie with his American chums or the US general's war comment, "I don't say we won't get our hair mussed" – and not the uncomfortably germane plot, that packs the punches. Dubya's stand-up stints are the funniest, most effective bits of satire, though the most lacerating invective comes from Rupert Mason's Iraqi ambassador, Wafiq Dizeez, who unleashes a breathtaking tirade on the gathered world leaders (but whose venom is projected way beyond the auditorium, down to Whitehall and right across the Atlantic) about the years of human rights abuses heaped on Arab nations by Western governments. It's a sobering moment in an otherwise larky evening, which mostly prefers to tickle you into submission. It doesn't always succeed, but Thomas Arnold's George Dubya and Nicholas Burns' pitch-perfect Tony "Blear" rarely fail in their mission to shock and awe us – and for that feat alone, Butcher should be applauded.

Time's ticking away in Faster, too, only the bomb in this snappy new show is the trigger for a nervous breakdown. Two hot-shot ad men, one cut-throat, one diffident, motor through their lives, racing from one deadline to the next, taking calls like they're being chased and grabbing sleep like it's a chore. A girl, Victoria, old friends with one and current squeeze to the other, has just returned from a rat-race sabbatical and is easing her way back into hectic London life.

Based on James Gleick's book Faster: The Acceleration of Just About Everything, Filter Theatre's devised piece is a suitably frenetic take on our rush-rush modern lives. We may have heard these arguments before, but Filter's way of delivering them is thrilling: it's loud, pacey and funny. So much so, the funky live soundtrack, sexy actors and sharp one-liners are in danger of promoting, rather than criticising 21st-century values.

More good things south of the river with the Latchmere's intensely watchable production of Dennis Kelly's curio Debris, a smart little two-hander about a brother and sister fighting for survival in a world so hostile, child abuse is just a game they play.

And at Dalston's Arcola Theatre, another pair are buckling under the strain in German writer Franz Xaver Kroetz's searing marital meltdown, The Nest. It'll put you off parenthood, but unlike many Fringe offerings, it won't put you off the theatre.

'The Madness of George Dubya': Arts, WC2 (020 7836 3334), to 3 May; 'Faster': BAC, SW11 (020 7223 2223), to 27 April; 'Debris': Latchmere, SW11 (020 7978 7040), to 3 May; 'The Nest': Arcola, E8 (020 7503 1646), to Sat