Unluckily for Ofiesh and his fellow performers, their nudity doesn’t stay novel for long. After gazes initially flit southwards, eyes and expectations are once again raised, and therein lies the problem. While Ofiesh is entirely personable, his material too insistently trades off the bare naked facts at hand (most specifically, that he has a small penis) for the show to be in any way inspiring. Still, he’s an absolute tonic compared with Happy the sad clown and Lady, who take to the stage next. Emerging with bin bags over their heads, one clad in pink wellies, the other in green pixie boots and a bright yellow merkin, they grope unlucky audience members who quickly realise that the second row wasn’t far back enough. Shedding the bags, the pair less-than-amply demonstrate that even nudity can’t make bad physical comedy any funnier.
Subsequent acts are entirely forgettable, calling to mind Ofiesh’s earlier, somewhat cowardly suggestion that this may be the worst show anyone present ever sees on the Fringe. This probably isn’t the case. It is true, however, that this is definitely the least fun you can ever hope to have in a darkened room with several naked people.