I sneaked a peek at a couple of reviews of Jordan Brookes' latest show last night and could not believe what I was reading. It seems that some critics didn't quite appreciate what the 2019 Edinburgh Comedy Award winner was doing. One critic seemed to be complaining that there weren't enough musical bits. I think they may have missed the point.

Anyone who has previously seen Brookes will know that he does not do things in the usual way. You'd have to have minimal knowledge of Brookes' modus operandi to think that Fontanelle – Definitely A Musical would actually be a full-blown song and dance extravaganza. The fact that the title says that it is definitely a musical surely tells anyone with the slightest wits about them that it isn't a musical.

In fact I was surprised that there was any song and dance in it at all. And even more surprised that some of the numbers, written by Jake Roche, were even quite infectious. Though maybe not the one that Brookes and his cast* repetitively perform while striding through the stalls trying to grind the audience into submission, a little like the way Stewart Lee hammers home the same verbal gag over and over and over. I did wonder if Brookes quietly hopes he might be able to morph this into a proper musical, in the same way Mr Swallow went from character comedy to West End star last Christmas.

Fontanelle** is Brookes' typically idiosyncratic take on the Titanic story, absurdist but in this case based on historic fact. There are two main intertwining strands. Firstly the way that we deal with major tragic events and how they are so easily turned into marketing opportunities. And secondly, what it means to be a man. Why, for example do women and children (and dogs) get to go on the lifeboats while men – "such brave boys" – have to go down with the ship?

There's also a bit in which Brookes argues that all men should stick their fingers up their bumholes.

If this sounds a little ambitious – particularly the bumhole bit – that's because it is. Brookes suggests he was inspired after travelling all the way to Southampton alone to see the Titanic musical like what a "normal" person would do. It also happened to be on his 38th birthday. He's the self-pitying sucker for punishment who can't just go to the pub and have a birthday drink with his chums.

Brookes excels at having this kind of public love/hate relationship with himself - a mix of sheer arrogance and bleak loathing. At some points marching assertively around the stage and through the audience, at others slithering barefoot on the floor like a pasty-skinned snake, his body resembling a broken bendy toy. He is certainly not short on charisma. In fact one of the few tiny flaws here is that when he is offstage and the supporting cast step in the energy is sucked from the room. 

There is certainly lots going on here, from thoughts about how hard it is to be a man and be open about one's feelings (not something Brookes seems to have a problem with) to asking whether it is right that we can make a West End show about an event where 1500 men died (he did his research, his figures are pretty close to the actual figures).

I like the way he plays with perspective, wearing a teeny tiny sailor's hat, sitting on a teeny, tiny stool. I fucking hate the way he refers to the reviewers in the room. Who out of everyone who has bought a ticket even knows what the comedy website Chortle is, never mind cares what their critic thinks? 

As Brookes keeps emphasising, it's a show that may not be for everyone. But then maybe that should be engraved on his tombstone. His work never is. It can make you uncomfortable, it can make you sink down into your seat like the Titanic sinking to the bottom of the Atlantic. He overshares way too much and at times seems to treat the performance as a therapy session. He might make you cringe but he also makes you think. There is so much to unpack here to say I loved it is just the tip of the iceberg.

Until March 1. Information and tickets here.

*The supporting cast is Eddy Hare, Rosalie Minnitt, Isobel Rogers and Lami Olopade.

**The Fontanelle is the bit of soft skin on a baby's head that hardens up after a few years. But before then if you press it too vigorously Brookes suggests it might kill you. He calls it the death hole.

Picture: Louise Mason

*****