Chris Lynham is back. In the eighties, his now legendary Glastonbury performances captivated and revitalised whole marquees full of hippies. Now in the scruffy upstairs room of a gangsters' pub, the iconoclastic clown shakes the laughter from us with the power of his provocation. For Chris Lynham, all the world is a stage, even here in this poorest of poor theatres.

In the same baggy suit, red braces and yellow T-shirt that he seems to have worn for the last twenty years, his impish character is both charming and demonic. Aiming to keep his performance on the edge he creates that anything-can-happen-and-probably-will sense of danger. A multi-talented performer, he uses the fire extinguisher to devastating affect.

Chris Lynham is a very funny man, but not for everyone. The sight of his hairy arse saw off the entire row behind me. A surprise guest appearance by Kate Mackenzie, elegant and unflappable, singing from Carmen accompanied by Chris on percussion and explosions, reminiscent of Harpo Marx in A Night at the Opera. After which came a voice from the front row, 'How's he going to follow that?' And then the climax: Chris, naked with a Roman candle blazing out of his arse, while we all sang 'There's no Business like Show Business'. You said it, Chris.