As you probably know, there is no actual pornography in this play. The only dicks you’ll see will be in the ADC bar, their laughs occasionally puncturing the silences which punctuate this tightly woven, unique and beautiful production.

That is not to say that the title is irrelevant. You are watching something compulsively indecent, thrillingly voyeuristic, highly choreographed and cut through with violence. Thankfully, it is impossible to draw parallels between the standard of acting. Dead-eyed automatons they were not.

Each actor in the ensemble held their own. Megan Roberts was exemplary. Her voice was pitched beautifully as she described her world to us, admitting to the trivialities and guilty truths which many of us share but would never admit to. Mark Wartenburg was in turn disturbingly likeable and downright chilling. His was a tense and moving performance. Tom England was a beautifully easy performer. His ageing widower touched upon the loneliness that our fast-moving, technologically advanced society can induce. In a world where it is possible to order everything from a screen in front of you, Stephens wants to remind us of the dangers of forgetting how to touch one another – physically or otherwise. James Bloor, quite simply, was made for this type of theatre. His fight scene with England and Luka Krsljanin (less of a fight, more of a beating) was the highlight of the play – slick, brutal, raw.

That is not to say there weren’t weaknesses. At times the group movement fell into what can only be described as trite – think sixth form drama, with verfremdungseffekt pushed beyond its intended absurdity into cliché. Without revealing spoilers, one scene depicting an unconventional romance was stiffly acted by Chloe Mashiter and Krsljanin, as well as being devoid of passion (though perhaps this was first night nerves - I do not envy them their required state of dress). The final part of their scene was strong, and their task difficult. To convincingly build and break a relationship in the space of a few minutes is not the easiest character arc. I have no doubt that this will strengthen as the run continues.

As you’ve probably noticed, the puns in this review are missing. Whilst the laughs come easily in parts of Moss’ beautifully-wrought production, the final impression is one of sadness. Like its namesake, the fragile morals and struggles for control are too close to the surface for many of us to be truly comfortable with its themes.