Campfire Ukulele Torture is a concept concocted from the bizarre and bewildering brain of Tomás Ford, who’s become fairly Fringe famous for his Crap Music Rave Party.

Tomás does not simply restrict himself to the most annoying instrument ever invented, he in fact has a collection of campfire-appropriate instruments; the first of which a freshly purchased Bunnings wobbleboard (with accompanying barcode still visible), and as the scoutmaster adored with badges and a bush hat worthy of Russell Coight status, Tomás immediately interacts with the crowd. We as his disciples are to call him Balooga and the interaction continues throughout the performance with requests ranging from the somewhat Fringe-expected to the downright bonkers.

Tomás is clearly talented; he can sing, very well in fact, he has an enviable and uniquely Australasian wardrobe, and he can play the uke, very well… sometimes. When it was going well, it was going very well, but it didn’t last, and there were multiple occasions where Tomás appealed to his scouts for forgiveness as he fumbled words, stuffed chords and needed to restart or jump to the next verse. It really was torture and not only for this reason. The performance didn’t feel ready, and whilst an unpolished Fringe show can sometimes feel charming and authentic, I found myself either watching the performance through my fingers, or through gritted teeth with a perplexed frown.

I’m not a difficult customer, and am actually a fan of the bonkers and bizarre, and whilst self-deprecating revelations about ABBA sex dreams are amusing, the accompanying ballad that ensued only made me laugh at the insanity of it all. I’m not simply dancing the wokey-cokey on my stance either, as I’m open to songs about helping someone fix daddy issues if they make me laugh, and I must have also totally missed the boat on the song about straight white men, which only added another layer of deconstructed madness and confusion.

The odd anecdote made me chuckle, including the best-worst pickup line I think I’ve ever heard and the song dedication to an unlikely recipient, and that spandex is going to linger longer in my mind than I would like it to. Just don’t forget to bring a bottle of strong liquor, a cask of goon or something stronger to this campfire. You’ll thank me for it.