It is hard to trust a show that requires parentheses in the title and, in many ways, I am (the space) was as clumsy as the title suggests. Yet, despite this, it was also remarkably likeable.

The programme notes informed that the piece was about ‘how our perceptions of rooms and spaces shape us and vice versa’. It was, however, to all intents and purposes, a show of mid-to late-twenties angst. The audience watched six twenty-somethings fall in and out of love to a relentlessly 'now' soundtrack. The aforementioned soundtrack was one of the more painful aspects of the show, partly because of the teeth-grindingly obvious nature of the music chosen: Everything but the Girl's lame hip-hop and the Prodigy's Firestarter when, I suspect, the writer/director would have been more comfortable with The Rolling Stones (actually they featured on the soundtrack too).

Still, the performances were strong enough to prevent the overriding impression becoming that of elderly relatives shaking their wrinkled booty at a wedding. The youthful cast were all excellent, highlighting the many strengths of the script and gamely bringing a gravitas to the weaker moments. Sandra Barefoot's performance as Em was particularly good. A curate's egg then – far less profound that it imagined itself but charming nonetheless.