It’s a chilly evening up in Clifton at the newly air-conditioned Alma Tavern Theatre. We’re a slightly thin but nevertheless game audience here to see ‘Fella: show us ur fruitcake.’ Fella ambles into the audience entrance minutes before showtime, resplendent in a leopard print zip-up top, silver face paint and wig cap and makes her way down the stairs, merrily chatting un-mic’d to the audience even before she begins.

Kicking off the show, she acknowledges looking like she’s been ‘rimming the Tin Man,’ and she suggests we get the ‘bad stuff out of the way up top,’ launching into a sometimes unintelligible song about her brother’s death, amongst other things. She’s got a knack for one-liners, describing herself as from Grimsby, ‘a hotspot for chlamydia and people dropping babies,’ and the dynamite ‘at any time I have two to three copies of my brother’s penis on me.’ Her stage presence is endearingly giggly and chaotic, and the audience laugh happily along – she also deals expertly with one member who won’t stop contributing.

The conventional show start establishing her dynamic and background melts away as she starts to make use of the chair of costumes and props at the back, going through a succession of characters, starting with a doctor – armed with a pink drill – and a drag king, Mr Big Dick Head, who’s a bit of a lad about town (Fella was a finalist at the 2024 ManUp! Manchester drag competition.) The latter is especially memorable, with a bulbous papier-mâché head and stray sections of ginger wig coming down at the bottom, and a long, swinging testicle which gets dipped in the pint of someone in the front row. There are elements of clowning as well as drag; at one point she throws balloons into the audience for us to blow up and bat back at her, and at another she drills into a bucket made up as her own brain cell and pulls candy floss out – her onstage changes are soundtracked by deliberately homemade-sounding songs.

Her chaotic stage presence occasionally strays into pushing boundaries, joking about whether she really does fancy her dad, but reassuring us he’s a ‘walking red flag.’ She mentions meeting a sibling later in life too, and this combined with the loss of her brother suggests depth and complexity to her family dynamics which sadly aren’t explored further; her real life remains compellingly enigmatic, despite passing references to unsuccessful dating – including an age-inappropriate Santa – and working as a teacher.

Although she and the characters are all great fun, the show lacked an overarching narrative, although well-anchored by her charisma and likeability, which takes her a considerable way in audience enjoyment. It takes a lot of stage time to give the illusion of being so casual, but it felt as if this dynamism wasn’t paired with a fleshed-out show yet, and overall I felt that in its current form it would work better in segments at a cabaret or variety night than as a full hour. Much like the Mat Ewins show I saw at the Wells Comedy Festival, I do think it is room-dependent, and I think she will get a bigger reaction, and hopefully bigger numbers, in her 10.40pm show at the Edinburgh Fringe later in the month. I’m intrigued to see how the show and her act develops.