One has the sense no-one on stage knows how it will begin, until it begins. What will fill the middle. Will it be a soft centre, or something hard and brittle? How, or when, it will end. This is the rugged beauty of it. It's all about the journey.
Before you can say “Melrose Place on acid”, things spin out into the absurd, as characters move in and out of dreams and fantasies, mingling memory and reality.
Contradiction, conundrum, conflict, racism, misogyny and homophobia run through this play like a main circuit cable snaking through a moral minefield of explosive allegation.
Following the unedifying edict that "there's a sucker born every minute", the show skewers the modern self-improvement economy in a piss-take parody of today's 'gurus' and snake-oil salesmen.