Grubby Little Mitts’ opening number consists of a precisely co-ordinated dance routine to Wet Leg’s ‘Chaise Longue’. Though pleasing and amusing, the actions simply recreate its lyrics, but then they bring out their props you see why they chose that particular song . . . How tightly presented that opening number is becomes a sign of what’s to come with material that just gets better and better.

Described as ‘The White Stripes of comedy’, Rosie Nicholls and Sullivan Brown have a dynamic chemistry and are visually striking with their clothes and props all drenched in red. Everything in this Fringe debut is a neatly executed, innovative take on life with sketches layered and often appear to be one thing then turn out to be something else. The opener appears at first to just be about how easy it is to forget people’s names at networking events but gradually reveals itself to be much more.

There are plenty of leftfield observations too such as the pig gameshow and a scene in which fire finds itself in trouble. A pair of workmen whose shenanigans echo Eric Sykes’ The Plank ends in a gag so perfect it seems obvious yet you still don’t see it coming. Plus they’re unafraid to use pauses and silences to great effect too: one sketch is just a single line of dialogue accompanied by facial expressions. Recurring routines maintain a framework to the hour in the form of a rather enthusiastic coffee-shop owner and recording studio session with an inconsistent singer. Who knows what they’ll come up with next, but it’s likely to be damn good.

Assembly George Square Studios, until 29 August, 2.15pm.