The Footlights turn to the dictionary for inspiration in this week’s ADC late show. Spoiling us with 26 skits that wander through the world from A to Z, Sam Knights, Declan Amphlett, Rebecca Cusack, Riss Obolensky and Zak Ghazi-Torbat charmed Tuesday’s audience with their silly brand of pun-loving humour. Under the direction of Lily Lindon, the group return to old-school sketches reminiscent of Footlight’s most famous 1980s alumni - the kind where punchlines hinge on unexpected worldplay (see the astoundingly funny ‘D is for Dog’, King Knute/Great Dane gag), absurd takes on everyday occurrences, and eye-roll-inducing dad humour.

Although a frequent dependency on seemingly inane jokes doesn’t sound like a night of endless laughter, the Xylophone cast know how to pitch their wacky irreverence with just the right level of earnestness to have the audience producing just that. Sporadically some of the sillier gags fell flat, and it’s a shame that the penultimate ‘Y is for Yoga’ sketch was easily the weakest of the show.  Whilst some jokes are just ridiculous (“I’m alliterate - which is ironic because I don’t have any hands!”) other moments, which would usually be head-shakingly titter worthy at best (“Why do you vote Conservative Dad?” “Well, son, because I’m a bastard”), are raised to hilarity by the masterful comedic control that is evident in every actor. That said, Sam Knights (and his delightfully squeaky sore throat, which admittedly garnered the biggest laugh of the night) decidedly stole the spotlight in every sketch; I can only imagine the hours of training he must put in to get his eyebrows to the desired level of dexterity. Zak Ghazi-Torbati delivers an impressive musical performance by in ‘W is for Wales’, proving that, for a Welshman, singing really is a “transferable skill”.

Xylophone is, in short, very funny. The 26 sketches zip along confidently, and not even once do you find yourself wishing to skip to the next letter, as is so often a problem in even the best Cambridge comedies. As ‘X is for Xylophone’ rolled around, and my £9000 a year English degree told me that this meant the end of the night was nigh, I felt genuinely sad. Because Xylophone was exactly what is should be: a night of laughing, occasional good-humoured groaning, and a chance to forget about whatever essay you’re avoiding by hiking up to the ADC at 11pm.

Which means I honestly have very little more to say about it. And, even though the self-absorbed student journalist I truly am would love to slip in a sly 300 words about the metatheatricality of post-modern comedy, this is absolutely for the best. Cambridge is an pretty intense place; I don’t want to have to contemplate my entire existence every time I climb down the stairs of the ADC. Sometimes, I just want to sit back, switch off and snort unattractively at some seriously funny people singing about accidentally dismembering a baby.

The cast’s enthusiasm is infectious, creating an immensely energetic feeling of camaraderie between them and the inevitably excited late night crowd. So if you find yourself in need of a guaranteed good time this week, be sure to catch Xylophone; it’s cheaper than a turf ticket, and - since H is for Hipsters (and how we love to hate them) - thankfully ten times less self-conscious.

Late-night punning at the ADC? The Footlights make it look as easy as ABC.