The Moldy Peaches

Tonight’s freewheeling chaotic circus of surreal fun takes up where last year’s stripped down introduction left off, bringing a three-piece backing band into the freaky fray to lend Adam and Kimya’s outragreous stream of infantile hilarity a full-blooded punky blast. Kimya looks like an Ewok at a Paris catwalk show, while Adam is a semi-naked Peter Pan. The crowd is going ballistic and the Peaches look like they are having the time of their lives.

Paul Smyth from David Kitt’ band pops onstage for a one-word contribution as the first few rows link arms and bound around like a legion of Duracell bunnies. Rarely have performers ever looked as animated as Kim and Adam, smiling, laughing and singing their deranged little hearts out.

‘Whose Got the Crack’ is greeted as the nutter’s anthem it is, as the venue unites in a howling plea for insanity. Being dysfunctional was never supposed to be this much fun.