Joe Black should come with a health warning. A statement I suspect he will take as a compliment.

Sex, Drugs and Vaudeville at the Brewhouse Studio was, in fairness, sold out and he obviously has a cult following. One of the strengths of many British performers and audiences is that they find humour in the most bizarre or non-PC aspects of life, and I was enjoying his lewd antics, musical prowess, ability to utilise rhyme and innuendo (think about pronunciation of the word countryside and you’ll get the picture), delivered like some sinister clown on speed. (Or in his case, the bottle of red wine downed throughout). However it was at the point he revelled in a song extolling the excitement of throwing babies and old people downstairs and fracturing their skulls that I and a few audience members disengaged. It got worse…or seemingly better for some. Despite knowing we would bear the brunt of a caustic comment delivered to the audience my friend and I left at the end, before we had to endure any encore.

The saving grace in this neo-burlesque evening was the support act, Mister Mistress. Making his home-town debut, the gender-challenging striptease artist was indeed downright smutty yet elegant, humorous and with a figure and shimmies to put most female dancers to shame. A polished performer in a niche genre and deserving of the warm applause.