Hitting the stage in a chicken costume with a red oven glove for a comb, Geordie Seymour Mace surprises us with an aggressively hilarious hour of props, costumes, pirates and The Beatles, quick off the mark to inform us that there is no magic, cakes or heaven included in this show – just lots of shit. Reminding us of the cliché that loneliness and depression are often at the root of many creative comedians, Mace takes us on a journey through interpretative dance, his own version of those mindless books that are intended to “improve” your lives, throwing inflatable sharks into the mix. As in he literally throws inflatable sharks into the mix.

Seymour introduces his show in costume, laying out the context and setting for what is about to happen next. Bounding on stage in his wonderfully make-shift attire, he has us in stitches from the get go. A video montage in which he and his £1 cuddly toy share touching moments to the sound of Hurt by Johnny Cash plays behind him as he walks into the space, only to then despairingly find that his suicidal soft pal no longer able to sit on the toilet as he, himself, bathes. This bizarre scene then randomly turns into interpretative dance (whilst still in costume, may I add) soundtracked by Mr. Mister’s Broken Wings, a track’s that’s ridiculous lyrics are absurdly apt for this surreal setting.

Mace is a random comedy genius – he rants about the inherent contradiction of the phrase “without further ado” (if we actually meant “without further ado” we would just say what follows already) – providing himself the perfect space in which to dispel his frustration and anger, depression and loneliness to a room of people who struggle to contain their contagious giggles that spread across Stand 3. From hosting a game designed to identify the most depressed person in the room whilst wearing a Robin costume (as in Robin and Batman, not another bird), to presenting us with Seymourtown’s version of those “improve” your life books that are a self-indulgent waste of time and money, Mace has that combination of stand-up and clowning around just right.

He concludes his show with audience participation that you would be stupid not get involved in, reminding us of the actual fun we used to have in school pantos and including a puppet scene of that moment Pete Best got kicked out of The Beatles reimagined by Mace. Bursting with a creativity that allows you to engage with your inner child, Seymour Mace’s Magical Shitcakes from Heaven certainly provides more magic and heaven than he suggests in the intro.

Worth going?

Seymour Mace’s Magical Shitcakes from Heaven runs until 27th August at Stand 3, 13:30.