The first thing to be said about Act Casual is that it has excellent pre-show music, and as the packed Corpus Playroom reached full capacity, everyone was undoubtably happy to have accidentally attended some sort of indie club night. When the flying-saucer-esque ceiling lights finally faded, and the giggly hush of comedy anticipation descended, I hoped that the performers were as psyched by the music as the audience clearly was.

The show opened with an energetic ensemble introduction where each cast member contributed one word to proceedings. Although the conceit was simple, the lively - and occasionally slightly manic - delivery really set the tone of the evening.  The chicken of poster fame was unfortunately not present in the lineup, but I allowed that to slide.

The entire cast was strong, but there were, of course, some standout performances, and undoubtably the highlight of the show was Harry Michell’s performance in the ‘Moosical’ sketch. His palpable anxiety and confusion at the preposterous and whimsical situations in which he found himself throughout the show was magnificent, and his orchestral milking of multiple cows was no different: Michell played the udders as effectively as he played the audience with his impressive range of befuddled expressions.

Alex Mackeith, too, deserves a mention for his capacity for mania in various perfectly pitched character pieces, particularly as an increasingly sinister wildlife guide. He sometimes turned his lunatic gaze onto the audience, drawing us in to the madness of what was unfolding, and this was when his performance truly shone.

Mairin O’Hagan’s finest role was one with few lines, but her icy pout and slightly demonic stare made her occasional disgusted interjections into Will Chappell’s arms-dealing for kids pitch the focus of the sketch.

Looking back on the show, Act Casual largely escaped from that timeless sketch comedy curse of ‘hit and miss’, and this isn’t because the sketches were exclusively ‘hits’, but because none of them overstayed their welcome. One of the greatest strengths of this show was that anything which fell even slightly flat was over quick enough to be forgotten, and the humorous-but-not-hilarious concepts which can often dominate student comedy were an aspect, not a staple of the writing.

If you don’t see Act Casual, you won’t witness the pulverization of a canary, or Will Attenborough nobly taking a basketball to the face for comedy, or the supreme existential despair raised by the question ‘Dave, who ran this bath?’, and frankly, you’ll be missing out. You’ll also miss the nunnery sketch featuring the talking, light up cocks (I’ll repeat: you need to see this show), which was quite unexpected, and, despite the smut, highly original.

This was penile profundity at its best, and I was suddenly extremely glad that I brought a Catholic companion. When mother superior’s (Theo Hughes-Morgan) own ‘apparatus’ was revealed to have a voice composed only of saintly music, my friend and I both laughed obnoxiously, for which he is undoubtably going to hell. And that’s probably the mark of an excellent show: it’s so funny that you’ll laugh yourself into damnation.