Not often do you pay money and end up watching a fully-grown man-lady swing around a baby by the head. However, if I were to summarize Richard Murray and Arron Ferguson’s “Not The Adventures of Moleman” in one scene, this would be it. Before you read on any further, if you’re not a fan of off-the-wall, dark, subversive comedy, please do go ahead and shut down this review, make a note in your complaints file and flick Michael McIntyre back onto the television; this is entirely different.

The audience were greeted to a small theatre in a Camden pub by the androgynistic Arron and Richard, who politely handed us free raffle tickets. I must admit, my heart did sink a little at this point. A gimmick perhaps? A mediocre performance, with goodies at the end as some deflated, lead lifeboat? Contrary to this, this was paid off in the first five minutes of the performance, with one lucky winner receiving a front row view of the show – from a chair in the middle of stage. The two performers went on to subvert more or less everything. These included innocent children’s entertainers to platform announcers, observing the subtle, yet “oh yeaaaahh” flaws we side-step daily, seemingly without regard for taboos or shock management (much of the performance was spent undressed, dressed in women’s clothing or snogging). In 99% of cases, “shock humour” like this won’t work. Backed up with such polished intelligence and subversive wit, this show works 9-5, comes home and cooks dinner for you before they’ve even got their keys out. Call-back jokes are set up as stand-alone jokes to be enjoyed, then raked back over towards the end. These included a charity for finding Wally and the deliberately jolting “What does the cow say?” song that haunted both audience and performers throughout the show. It all felt longer than an hour but certainly did not drag. Both performers polished the arrangement with charismatic control of the stage, in spangly boots Noel Fielding would tell his pet otter to make a note of. Never have I seen sick, blood, nudity, softcore porn, dead babies and bodily fluids carried off so professionally. My only reserve is in their interaction with the audience. It seemed like every ball the audience hit their way they couldn’t help but smash back in lightning wit, resulting in the fourth wall having a few too many bricks knocked out of it and the spell of a theatre show being broken a little too much. The rest was extremely well polished.

I would recommend seeing them whenever you can, but I would recommend more that you wait until their national tour. The jar I enjoyed this show in could easily transpose to a Tupperware container, or at least a cake-tin. They’ve certainly both got the talent to pull this off.