A GROUP of people came in late, just as the singer was repeatedly chanting "you dribble down your chin". The singer was Martyn Jacques; the falsetto-voiced, accordion-playing singer/songwriter who wears white face make-up (red splashed between the eyes), a bowler hat, Victorian garb and a pony tail that touches his backside.

Originality is the trademark of this British-based trio, who are a worldwide phenomenon. If the late arrivals had never seen the Tiger Lillies before they must have wondered what type of world they had entered because alongside Jacques (who also plays piano, guitar and what was described as a "home-made, ukulele thing"), was double bassist Adrian Stout with face makeup resembling a living zombie and Mike Pickering on drums and percussion who actually looked quite normal in this environment.

Influenced by the degeneracy of Germany in the 1930s, the band's work ranges from homages to Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill's The Threepenny Opera and the film Cabaret, but among this up-tempo sleaziness lurks some beautiful blues numbers and ballads.

The songs may embrace the dark side of life, but there is comedy throughout as we visit brothels, misshapen prostitutes, religion, old prostitutes past their prime, domestic arguments, sexual self abuse, murder, death and other hush-hush subjects that are the staple diet of Tiger Lillies' songs.

Such is the genius of Jacques' lyrics, the intonation and delivery often leave you with a sense of guilty pleasure.

Jacques barely speaks in the whole 90 minutes and then prompts "any requests". Given they've produced 35 albums, the responses come thick and fast. They ended with Gin, a song about the adverse effects of that alcoholic beverage and leave the stage to Morecambe and Wise-inspired Bring Me Sunshine.

Ed Waugh