Desiree Burch: Unf*ckable

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Desiree Burch is an old-school standup. The kind you'd have at a fantasy dinner party. Barely a moment is wasted in the riotously fun Unf*ckable, an hour that fully justifies why, for her, a bright future surely lies in wait.

Seemingly wound up by a mechanised key before being unleashed on stage, she unfurls a never-ending barrage of energy, operating on a breathless stream of gags and barely pausing to take stock. Once she hits her stride, you never want her to break it, and her audience can't help but will her on as she descends deeper into the tales of depravity.

She's a master of the extended routine (each plot point is structured expertly and every detail is squeezed for all its worth), here telling the story of her former life as a dominatrix, and then as a plaything for rich pervert bosses. She touches on her identity as a woman of colour, and her plight against the preconceptions assigned to her. Burch sure knows how to work a room, and the chaotic result is an enjoyable blend of style and substance.

It's comedy from the gut, and the cramped top deck of the Blundabus consolidates the intimacy of her debauched tales. Here Seinfeld's "no hugging, no learning" mantra is stretched to its logical limit, unless you're a 275lb sex worker who's now going to quit their job in search of greener pastures. If you can stomach the gory details, it's well worth your time.