Briefs

It doesn't take long for the clothes to start coming off in this all-male cabaret, but then what does one expect in a show named after gentlemen's pants?

The boys have enviable muscles and even more enviable fake eyelashes, and after making the crowd squeal with some carefree juggling of their abandoned suits, they launch into something altogether less conventionally macho – an ostrich feather fan dance. It's testament to their charisma however that they can inject even this with a distinctly testosteroney attitude, and this sets the flavour for a show that is, as host Shivannah—surely the sweetest, friendliest drag queen in town—says, "a little bit of butch with a fuckload of camp."

The line-up gives us Davy Gravy the deadpan plate spinner who eats protein shake with a spoon; Johnny Domino, a 1950's housewife's fantasy of moustachioed frying-pan bending strong man; and the enfant terrible of the ensemble, Captain Kidd, aka Las Vegas's 2011 King of Burlesque, aka Nadia, the beer-spitting, nipple-flashing, mangina-waving reject from Australia's Olympic gymnastics team. He is a force of bad behaviour to be reckoned with, teetering into scenes, adding a frisson of the unpredictable, and giving a spectacularly limber cloudswing finale.

Indeed in every case there are the skills to back up the posturing, no more so than with Natano Fa'anana on the aerial silks, infusing what is usually a graceful female domain with a powerful dynamism, his tattooed body twisting between two weightless slices of red fabric.

Beefy and brassy they may be but don't believe this classy cabaret when they describe themselves as "trash."