This variety show felt like tumbling headfirst into a particularly good playdate – one where none of the snazzy new toys could hope to compete with how mind-bogglingly entertaining the actual kids were.

The evening was loosely organised into a profusion of sketches, whose titles the audience were expected to deduce from an ‘order of play’ received at the beginning, along with, amongst other things, a balloon and a cocktail stick (you figure out the rest). To complement the numbers unfolding on stage, Adrian Gray scribbled away in the corner of the stage for much of the evening, busy writing an impromptu sketch whose theme was suggested by the audience. That it was pulled off was proof (as if any were needed) of the cast’s ability to extricate humour from the most unlikely situations, and most of all to improvise.

Many of the sketches seemed designed to play on the complexity of a child’s imagination, subverting the norms of the adult world, whose conventions and constrictions were parodied with ingenuity: a sultry cabaret singer exposed as a ridiculous lip-syncer; Shakespearian romance morphed into a game of kiss-chase before our eyes. Situations were exploited to their maximum capacity for ridicule and shame, mostly pulled off by a bubbly, expressive cast. Dance and singing numbers that could have been ludicrous became hugely funny gags through precise and timely execution, showcasing a wacky number of talents, most notably a complete lack of self-consciousness. Although some sketches inevitably flopped or went on for too long, they were generous and inventive in terms of audience inclusion.

Almost two hours passed incredibly fast, plunged as we were into a vast array of different scenarios and fanciful landscapes.

Much like child play, the evening relied on astonishing inventiveness rather than any scintillating technology or intrigue – Rosa Robson for instance beautifully recreated the feel of a silent film out of nothing but subtle mimes, a table and two chairs, whilst the awkwardness of speed dating was brilliantly fabricated through cup and string walkie-talkies linking pairs of audience members. The best act by far was the first, which involved nothing but a microphone and Alex Mackeith’s buzzing energy, in a nonsensical blend of gestures and noises whose artful silliness left the audience in hysterics.   

Inevitably, a darker twist was also given to the sparkling world of fun and games, exploiting the huge potential for horror and gore that lurks within a child’s psyche. This was done in captivating ways: simply making the audience wear blindfolds, for instance, meant that a classic tale of slug-turned-monster truly induced that long-forgotten, heart-pounding fear.

The greater part of the night was completely given over to comedy, however, with gags and quips dazzlingly superior to much of what is on offer in the adult world of scripted stand-up and drama.