Even as you enter the room for the first time and before our act has appeared on stage, some arch tomfoolery has started. Those short of sight might struggle to see the gag that's on their seats, while others might take a moment to consider whether all those places really have been reserved. When Australian absurdist Sam Campbell finally arrives before us, it's to unleash nothing less than a show of daft musings, multimedia japes and crowd participation that is never less than straddling a thin line between banter and cod-abuse.

A late addition to the Fringe programme, Campbell put his stamp on the around-midnight Monkey Barrel cult basement slot in similar fashion to Rob Kemp's The Elvis Dead last year, but while there was a twisted logic to the latter, The Trough never brings its head up from the eccentric. Ribaldry claiming that this is his version of Hannah Gadsby's Nanette (they share a nationality: end of), his consistently offbeat manner and sideways glances that suggest even he can't believe he's just uttered another cheeky remark (he pulls a cheeky gurn that is very Dame Edna-esque) are a winning formula for anyone who wants to mess around in the silly stuff for an hour.

Monkey Barrel, run ended.