If you are currently experiencing erectile dysfunction this may not be the show for you – or perhaps it will be just the tonic if laughter truly is the best medicine. The Flop tells the real-life story of the Marquis de Langey, the last man to suffer ‘Trial by Congress’, which required a husband to disprove a charge of impotence by having sex with his wife in a public court. Proving his inability was a wife’s only way of being granted a divorce.

The ‘flop’ of the title refers to both the flaccidity of the uninspired penis, and the term Jacques Lecoq used to describe the clown’s ability to make an art of failure. The show is produced by inclusive theatre company, Hijinks, in association with renowned British clown troupe, Spymonkey. Their influence is clear in the style of the show, from the slapstick visual gags, comedic songs, a tsunami of puns, in-japes about theatrical conventions, and even a trademark naked bottom.

The briefly appearing bottom belongs to Jess Mable Jones, who is perhaps the standout performer in a strong cast and demonstrates great comic ability.  The ensemble of six also includes some performers with learning disabilities, who also show clear comic talent. In particular Jonathan Pugh as ‘David the Manservant’ has a few scene-stealing turns, as he fumbles with cases, mimes absent doors and plays the Spanish maracas. Having a learning disabled actor playing the part of a dim-witted character might cause ripples of concern, but I enjoyed this bold choice, and my experience working in Inclusive Performance environments gives me confidence that everyone here is respected and having fun. This ‘inclusive’ element of the casting becomes the normality of the show-world pretty quickly, and we get on with enjoying the antics on stage.

The set consists of moveable flats with hidden doors and windows, finely decorated in the style of the period and rearranged to create different scenes.  The costumes are also of notably high quality and the whole production has a very professional look, further complemented by live musical numbers. It is full of visual gags and daft wordplay which, for the large part, had the audience in gleeful titters. The couple in bed is represented by the characters standing and holding up a sheet. When they discuss the logic of this, the servants suddenly fall to the floor to maintain illusion: it’s simple and silly and funny. She asks, ‘Do you mind if I spoon?’ and then whips out a set of spoons from under her dress which she begins to play. When the Marquis goes on a business trip after four years of an apparently happy marriage, he receives a letter from his wife suing him for impotence. This is delivered in the cinematic convention whereby we simultaneously see the wife writing and hear the husband reading, which confuses her, much to our amusement.

There are plenty of visual absurdities, too, including David’s highly anachronistic appearance as a robotic processor of the court’s decision, and the too-tall hat of Dominic the chef, whose hedgehog dream suddenly manifests before our eyes in wholly surreal fashion. Judging from the audience reactions, this daft mayhem clearly has the ability to provoke hearty laughter. I felt it dipped a little at times, like the breakfast ingredient routine, which returned a modest pay-off for quite a lot of build-up. However, this is a new show premiering at the Edinburgh Fringe before a UK tour, so any early wrinkles will have time for ironing out.  It has great potential and there is already plenty about it to commend and enjoy.