IT’S just a jump to the left... but it arriving at cult musical experience the Rocky Horror Show last night felt like a leap into a bizarre parallel dimension. A burly six-footer, who looked like he spent his day behind the wheel of a truck, barely merited a second glance when he was carefully negotiating the foyer in seven inch red glitter platforms, pants, suspenders, full make up and a basque. That was because most of the audience were in something similar.

Richard O’Brien’s Rocky Horror Show tells the story of straight-laced engaged couple Brad and Janet who get lost and become very much un-laced at the fantastically eerie castle of Sweet Transvestite, Frank n Furter. The be-caped appearance of Frank signalled the riotous Time Warp which had everyone happily pelvic thrusting. David Bedella was suitably charismatic in the main role, putting in bags of expression and just the right amount of leer.

The OTT drama of the lighting, which soaked the stage in red and spooky uplighting, gave the production the right 50s B-movie vibe, as did the lavish set, strewn with ladders for characters to drape themselves on seductively.

Another highlight was Mickey Starke as narrator, handling a heckling audience who knew the script at least as well as the cast. “Over,” he lamented about Brad and Janet’s love. “Your career,” yelled a Rocky-obsessed voice the audience. “Yes, reduced to this,” returned Starke smartly, “for 10 grand a week.”

Also over by the second half were all the best known songs and after an inspired bed scene, where Frank slipped onto an upright mattress first with Janet then with Brad – cue some rather stomach churning hair-in-mouth humour – the plot seemed to sag a little. Characters like Janet and Brad failed to develop much and by the end the plot had collapsed into impenetrable, decidedly non-risque loopy chaos.

But Dammit Janet, it seemed to hit the spot for a packed house of suspender-snapping devotees. So who am I to argue?

EMMA PINCH