Following last year’s completely unhinged, critically tolerated hour of existential dread, Andy Fowler returns with another brand-new sermon on identity, resentment, jazz and panic.

This year, he’s targeting the "creeping madness" of the affluent middle class-specifically the organic, soil-health-obsessed, sourdough-baking psychopaths of West Bridgford. He’s spent the last 12 months closely watching his neighbours (including an emasculated former bassoonist and a regional manager whose children are named after artisanal cheeses). From chemical warfare against garden weeds to the tactical advantages of a sit-down wee, this is a show about surrendering to the chaos.

Pull up a stool, lower your expectations, and embrace the rhythm. It’s not a tight-five, it’s comedy jazz.