Review: The Mighty Boosh at The O2

Barratt is dressed like an extra from Sinbad the Sailor while Fielding appears to have fabricated his costume from the sort of silver hologram wrapping paper you covered your school books in during the early nineties.

They sing a song, indulge in a little verbal combat and the tone for the rest of the evening is set.

The audience are already screaming for more.

Typically Boosh, they give the appearance of having thrown the whole show together at the last minute, with a budget akin to that of a school nativity play and a script dreamt up seconds before curtain up.

With their current ethereal status it seems feasible the golden duo could do nothing more than walk on stage, wave at the audience and walk off and still receive a standing ovation.

The twosome poke fun at themselves for creating a phenomenon that is on the one hand almost impossible to translate onto the stage while being so accessible that the audience is filled with fans dressed as and Old Gregg, The Hitcher and Crack Fox.

This is not meant to be a seamless show.

Bollo trips and falls over the world and Fielding playing the part of disembodied head Tony Harrison, slips in sofa he is crammed into, banging his supposedly non existent knee and suspending himself by just his adam's apple.

New characters are introduced. Sunflash who hails from the planet Camden and speaks in a dialect somewhere between chav and Chinese, arrives to glam up the apocalypse, saving the world with a lesson in accessorising.

The Honey Monster, accused of the shameless theft of the 'crimp', a style of music coined by the Boosh, gets his comeuppance.

Fielding, astride a giant hair dryer, puts a stop to any future plagiarising by blowing the giant yellow beast's head off.

It is a shame they close the show with a set from The Boosh Band as the cast are much funnier in conversation.

But the thong of screaming girls who were clinging like limpets to the front of the stage would probably disagree.

The last word goes to Fielding, professing that playing The O2 is the most surreal moment of his life.

This said by a man who spent previous ten minutes dressed as an old cockney, obsessed with eels, with a polo over one eye.