Sean Morley, the comedy outlier and doyen of surreal comedy, is the focal point of the Sheffield comedy scene's cult Glang show.

He would deny leadership, but Morley, pictured, is both the frame and the leading light of this, this … This what? I've seen most forms of UK comedy, but Glang is unique as it pushes the responsibility for laughter creation away from the stage and performer out into the audience.

To explain Glang, we have to use the currency of other comedy genres, which is misleading as it's not some mash-up—it's new ground. Let's call it ‘comedy interruptus’.

Try imagining a blend of comedy game shows, live music, stand-up, and audience participation on steroids, wrapped in a mobile party—and you're still not close.

Audience members are issued with plastic orbs, empowering them to interrupt the show's flow with suggestions. ‘Do it again, backwards in a French accent’, ‘get me a drink now from the bar’, ‘everyone hides from Sean’ were some of the audience suggestions on the night I recent;y saw, at Manchester’s Fairfield Social Club.

The reality is that the capacity audience was flecked with Glang plants, I assume from historical Glang shows, who know the ropes and offer high-grade suggestions. Amusingly every audience member looked like they could be a long-term Glang chaos adherent. so there is no telling initially who is a plant.

The only structure is that there are three ‘stand-up’ acts who seem like entire amateurs, essentially a coconuts shy for the audience to fling away at with their recommendations. They struggle to get through a proportion of their act, and the show finishes after a couple of hours. There are no planned punchlines, no show arc, no resolution. Glang prevents these by design. Morley promised a show we will never forget. Mission met.

Each show survives comedically by the wit of the audience, not the dummy stand-ups. Lads’ comedy prides itself on crowd work and Acaster’s latest show actively seeks heckles. In these formats, the person on stage holds the upper hand and attendant glory.

Glang is fundamentally different. Don't go if you want belly laughs, are frightened of lulls, or need an event with a pretty pink bow around it. But, if you want to see comedy through the looking glass – go Glang.

Best of all, it's an economic suicide note. Nobody is going to make money or a living from this; it's comedy for comedy's sake, but many who attend, certainly not all, will come away richer.