Show Rating:

Lizzie Roper is a filthy, mouthy, extravagant flirt; and if she doesn't land a saucy sexpot role in the new Carry On revival, it'll be a travesty.

"I'm sexy... but I'm frightening," as she so accurately puts it before embarking upon a long, hard (oh, matron!) look at her own life. Unabashedly frank, often dirty, and always entertaining, it's a rollercoaster ride, powered by Roper's inexhaustible energy.

In her mid-thirties, and thus nearing fertility's last orders, she sets out to confront her lascivious in-your-face persona in an attempt to become the 'lady' her straight-laced mother would expect and land herself a man. Her boyfriends, she confesses, always seem to end up resenting the vivacious character they first fell for.

But Roper admits to being a mass of multiple personalities, which of the inner women should she release?

This, naturally, is an excuse for a cavalcade of characters, from the nonagenarian widower to the sadly pathetic lap-dancer via the snobbish suburban housewife. Each get their own Alan Bennettish monologue, beautifully drawn and warmly witty, if hardly laugh-out-loud funny.

An exception is made for the sturdy, randy, farmer's wife - a far more spirited character who's more obviously hilarious, if little more than an excuse for Lizzie to get busy with an unwilling young punter.

The quieter characters provide a counterpoint to Roper's brazen stand-up, a brutally honest confessional where nothing is out of bounds - the size of her nipples, a Brazilian waxing job, high jinx with her ex's genitals as he slept... it's all grist to the comedy mill.

Her delivery style is the sort of over-the-top stagey type you might expect from such an obvious extravert. More evangelical that the natural persona of most stand-ups, it's nonetheless highly effective as she builds to the show's celebratory climax when she finally decides who she is.

And who is she? An unexpected hidden highlight of the festival, that's who.