Camping

Davis has been at the forefront of barely watchable comedy for over a decade.

When I say "barely watchable", I mean it in the most complimentary way possible. Camping, like Nighty Night and Davis' other work takes you through an emotional experience similar to a horror movie. You bite your lip, brace yourself for scares, and peek from under a blanket... all with a big childish grin in expectation for the slap in the face of comedy the monsters.

Vicky Pepperdine deserves a standing ovation, she's so perfectly painful to watch - each line delivered is like fingernails scraping across a blackboard. Similarly Rufus Jones somehow envelops the body of a new-age-hipster-loser-wannabe with bizarre excellence, his intonation and physical movements a constant source of belly laughs.

Not to say the rest of the ensemble isn't wonderful, in fact they all embody their cringey characters with effortless grace - the casting director deserves a medal.

Davis has brought a slightly more mature subtlety to this one than some of her previous more in your face brutal works, and if you are a sucker for punishment and love dry, pitch black humour, this is the show for you.