Stupid Stupid is not stupid. It cleverly twists two genres together in the pursuit of laughs. Peggie Barnes and Ava O’Brien are sexy clowns indulging their instincts for nonsense in innovative and unexpected ways. This cabaret/clown act attempts to make cabaret silly instead of sexy, and largely succeeds, though the charms of O’Brien and Barnes are somehow enhanced in the process.

The show opens with an audience interaction that develops into a symbolic striptease, audience-assisted. It is passionate and elicits moans and screams, though no nudity is involved, nor lust. The performers enter The Gods at Paramount encased in a single t-shirt over their leotards. Bound by the shirt, face to face and perfectly happy, they introduce us to the show – and the punters in the front row, before they symbolically part, handing scissors to one of the front row punters to help them separate from one layer of clothing and each other.

During the show the performers are sometimes possessed by spirits. These require them to recombine into single beings of utter ridiculousness with stories to match. Other skits are related to the birthday gifts Ava receives – it is her birthday. We are given puppetry, silly voices, a sausage fest and a magic performance that gives new meaning to what the programme refers to as ‘extended bits’ – with a scene that takes penis envy to a new level, and leaves you no-longer wondering what it would look like to give birth to a sausage balloon.

As clowns must be, these two are utterly fearless: throwing their bodies around, contorting, climbing on each other. Barnes once again shows off her breadth of skills. Her clowning and cabaret-style dancing tonight contrast to her masterful dramatic and melodramatic performances for Death, Ray and Hausdown in last year’s Fringe. Skills aside, Barnes’ biggest asset is her magnetism. You want to see her facial reactions – you know she will make you laugh. She engages the audience effortlessly and seems to radiate joy.

O’Brien’s joy also beams out at us. She leads the conversation in most of the skits. She’s the extrovert friend – centre of attention, securing our indulgence with a twinkle and a smile. Her faux-sexy physical performance is as potent as her quick wit and perfect timing. As the choreographer, she is inspired – the hilarious chair dance and chimeric spirit combinations of bodies stand out as clowning gold, farcically skewering the intensity of cabaret and acrobatics.

If there is a theme in this show beyond going for giggles, it is friendship. The crew are clearly a group of good friends, giving each other – and us – freedom to be child-like. There’s nothing stupid about this show, but it is very silly, and that is better.

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