I will never turn down an opportunity to see ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. This is my fourth time, and I’ve got two nights booked when Masli comes to the Old Vic in October. It’s a communal experience like no other, held together by the absolute guilelessness of Masli as the Victorian clown agony aunt, sincerely and desperately trying to solve the audience’s problems. It’s a shame that, tonight, the audience aren’t matching that sincerity or offering the depth required. They don’t trust her enough, and having seen this show firing on all cylinders all the previous times, I don’t think that’s her fault. The only way to make this show as good as it can be is to give yourself over to it, to just answer and let her work with it. When that does happen tonight, magic occurs. There’s this slow build of spinning plates that every now and then you realise the insanity of and then realise how little you’ve otherwise been thinking about it. I walked away, as ever, in awe and hopeful, but more specifically this time with one fewer sock than I came in with. What more could you want?