“Please stop asking so many questions,” says Sean Burnett Dugdale-Martin in his blurb for this clown performance. In times of political anxiety, lords of misrule can serve two essential social purposes: speaking truth to power and reminding us of the things that weave us together. To achieve the latter, Ruff as Gutz Spectacles deliberately herds us away from the former, as Buck Scourge: Living Nightmare takes a welcoming audience beyond all notions of personal space, public niceties – and political identities.

In times when extreme political opposition is amplified for the purpose of spectacle, one antidote is to stop asking (political) questions. At least for fifty minutes or so, why not just be silly instead? The political analysis here is entirely my own, but I think it is evident in the way the whole audience follows Dugdale-Martin’s Buck Scourge as if arm-in-arm. We need a laugh. Whether or not Ruff as Gutz have politics in mind, they are just the political medicine we need.

Buck Scourge begins casually interacting with us one-to-one in the stalls as we enter The Hannah and take our seats. Were it not for the red nose you might think of him as a friendly stranger, somehow both outgoing and shy at the same time. Not quite extroverted, socially naive. But the red nose gives you pause, Dugdale-Martin is performing, so the naivete is a little unsettling; it has the whiff of anarchy.

At some point the show just starts, there’s a raised chin and raised eyebrows directed from Buck Scourge at the techs – Will Evans on sound and Jacob Banks on the lights – and we’re off. There’s a kerfuffle with the mic coming on, and the kerfuffles continue for fifty minutes.

Buck Scourge traverses three personas to give us dynamic flow, visual gags and different catchphrases, but there’s no discernable change to his coquettish, deeply silly character. There’s no narrative; as the show progresses the lights go up and down, following the chaotic, fluctuating participation levels of the audience. At times, audience members go on stage, at others Buck Scourge moves into the audience – with one scene staged behind the audience.

There are some props and audience participants planted by the production, but it is hard to be sure who is in on it, and just how instinctive and brilliant Dugdale-Martin’s Buck Scourge is as he reacts to what the audience gives him.

Evans plays live incidental music and sound, above stage left, spotlit in the mezzanine, very much part of the performance, providing many of the gags. His highlighted role recalls the age of Wurlitzer accompaniment to silent cinema, and also highlights his impeccable timing – varying from pinpoint to chaotic.

The show producer, Tom Smith, makes an appearance as a Les Patterson character, minus the whisky but complete in suit, orange/brown stains down his shirt and drool down his chin. His vocal delivery is even more mumbled and chaotic than Buck Scourge’s. His inclusion double-underlines the theme of the show – nonsense.

Nonsense with a purpose. Dugdale-Martin has to confirm to the audience the show is actually over, so well has he removed our conventions. In his final words he reveals the point, the core of what weaves us together as (mostly) good people. The thing that underlies our willingness to follow this lovely fool, is love itself. He describes his performance as the silliness we allow ourselves with the people we love. Thanks to him, for an hour that included all of us together.

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