Okay, hands up: who hasn’t seen a sketch show in Cambridge? Anybody? I thought so. Aside from the fortnightly Smoker, every term we see the faces of forlorn comedians stare out at us blankly on the front of laminated posters, as if doomed by their vocation to entertain. It’s sometimes hard to distinguish because, if the writing doesn’t force some sort of cohesion, sketch shows become hard to characterise: they are, by definition, sketchy. 

Maybe the writers of Yellow were not quite sure how they managed to pull it all together, but they did. Right from the hilarious opening sketch involving a ‘Transfiguration Machine’, the same surreal sci-fi tropes were disseminated throughout the show like a potentially-disastrous lab-experiment-gone-wrong. But, just like the playfully strange title suggests (what’s ‘yellow’ got to do with anything? You’ll see – kind of), this is a show which delights in its implausibility and randomness. From the appearance of tedious office ghouls to the search for a ‘golden scroll’ in a box of tampons, Yellow manages to stay downright weird until the very end. 

Matty Bradley’s brilliant feats of bodily contortion as ‘Crackerjack’ were one of the highlights of the show, prompting moments of corpsing from the otherwise deadpan Alex MacKeith. Other great moments of physical comedy came from Emma Sidi, whose gyrations to Shaggy’s ‘Mr. Boombastic’ made her the envy of Cindies-goers everywhere. Matilda Wnek was a consistently strong performer, propelling through a slightly weaker ‘Samaritans’ sketch with conviction, and keeping the show moving with vigorous energy. 

Somewhere amidst the escaped monkeys, ‘wanking’ cloaks and topless police inspectors, Yellow reveals some intelligent comedy. There are flashes of genius in the small details: the keenly-observed minutiae of MacKeith’s character acting; the disembodied taunts of a slot machine; an ‘Award for Best Acceptance of an Award’ speech performed entirely in Spanish. The awkwardly nerdy ‘Contemporary Issues in Geopolitics: A Children’s Guide’ sketches were saved from cringiness by impeccable execution and a generous dose of self-parody.   

Yellow isn’t faultless – some of the punch lines fell flat, and I had to forgive the twee inclusion of a ukulele - but somehow, against all probability, things come together in the end. MacKeith and Sidi’s impeccable timing in the astoundingly clever ‘Time Button’ sketch was the most memorable part of the evening, tying up the loose strands in an grand finale of great comic acting and inventiveness. In a saturated Cambridge sketch comedy scene, Yellow manages to stay fresh and quirky and surprisingly consistent, which is an achievement in itself - and if you like low-budget sci-fi and novelty masks, you certainly won’t leave feeling blue.