The Cambridge run (albeit consisting of only two performances) of I am, I am is the latest brainchild of Footlights veterans (and in the former case, president) Harry Michell and Lowell Belfield. Given its appearance fresh from what I hear was a critically successful stint at the Edinburgh Fringe, it was always going to come with some pretty hefty expectations. I can whole-heartedly say that it doesn’t disappoint. The premise was simple: two guitars, two rather ornate chairs, two gingers and forty-five minutes of our time – and it worked.

It kicked off with a kind of interpretive dance, miming the performance of the backing track with the substitution of various limbs for the appropriate instruments. Belfield and Michell then managed to put together a collection of wittily worded songs that touched on topics that varied suitably from a description of the worst person in the world (titled ‘Sharon Osborne’) to seeking revenge on old P.E. teachers. Anyone who is at all familiar with a map of the London Underground will be particularly appreciative of one number made entirely from sexual puns on the names of tube stops. Of course, some songs forayed into more traditional territory - self-deprecating accounts of supposed manliness (the sort that rhymed the repeated chant of ‘animal’ with ‘Neanderthal’) and the apparent staple confession of platonic love (a.k.a you’re quite nice but I’ll be damned if I’m sleeping with you). However, the novelty of the musical format, the panache and enthusiasm with which it was delivered, not to mention some mighty fine lyrics, all prevent these numbers being either forgettable or conventional. A particular highlight was the ending number comprised of a mash-up of the evening's entertainment – snippets of all the songs sung at the same time and with great speed, just in case we might have forgotten anything.

Due attention must be paid to the comedians themselves. Yes, they might have some stellar material, but what makes this show truly delightful is the chemistry and camaraderie that surrounds the pair. Songs are interspersed and interrupted with quips, anecdotes and friendly insults. Sly remarks and sidelong looks dissolve into infectious giggles that have the whole audience distracted and snorting with laughter. This is testament both to the merits of the show and the clear friendship between the pair – that after what must have been a significant portion of their summer devoted to its performance, they are nonetheless amused and fully engaged throughout. There is sufficient audience participation to allow for unscripted, circumstantial humour, (including a moment in which one punter shouted out a particular punch line before the joke was finished). Often the most amusing, particular credit should be given to Harry Michell, for his improvised serenade of a somewhat unaccommodating audience member.

Innovative in format and content, for an evening of sometimes childish (the show was not without poo jokes) but always sharp comedy Cambridge comedy doesn’t get much better than this. Whatever your complaints, you won’t be bored.