TO those new to bin-lid body-surfing, it’s a banging, innovative explosion onto the stage, a unique fusion of junkyard percussion and quasi-martial movement. For the superfans, there’s the chance to see it all over the world and, depending on the vibe that day, little nuances, onstage jokes between the company which have crept in. Me? I’ve seen this banging – I want it to change.

There are some performers in the company who really make the show. Rhys Shone stayed true to his name and brought a youthful fizz and fire, while Phil Batchelor, in addition to some seriously great percussive skills had great rapport with the audience and by the end had us all clapping with a degree of skill vastly improved on our early attempts.

The show has no interval and thus engendered a relentless trickle of loo-going. It’s set pieces around a theme /new ‘instrument’ – the zippo lighter, the rubbish bag, the kitchen sink (my favourite) and the audience, like much else become an instrument too – a very nice bit of participation.

After 28 years, this is in need of updating. The matches routine is all a bit last century. The two women performers are defeminised because they are operating in a ‘masculine’ workplace but we’ve moved on many miles from here in the real world of gender. You don’t need to be surly to be a female manual worker. There are moments where focus descends into onstage giggles but it’s a joke that isn’t shared with the audience.

This is a show which demands from its performers meticulous concentration, timing and skill in return for a hugely supportive audience but a rather anonymous spotlight. No one speaks and these guys and girls don’t even get their own photos in the programme. No wonder they’re angry.

Sarah Scott