On Saturday night in the dark little box that is Brighton Dome Studio Theatre, the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to Brighton occurred, courtesy of reigning monarch of sinister post-modern cinema, David Lynch.

Chrysta Bell, an improbably proportioned Agent Provocateur mannequin-esque flame-haired, red-lipped alien stalked on stage wearing a subtly BDSM-inspired outfit consisting of a black body glove with cut-out panels, and stilletos that would not be at all appropriate for nipping out to get the milk in.

As is often the case with characters in his films, Chrysta and the three other band members possessed the quality of having had some crucial part of their brain removed prior to the performance, creating an interesting and impenetrable filmic divide between performers and audience.

The music was noir blues-rock par excellence. Languid, melancholic and evocative of the work of Lynch’s musical partner Angelo Badalamenti (responsible for Julee Cruise’s Falling – the theme to Twin Peaks).

George Du Maurier’s classic tale Trilby has been updated and brought to almost-life to sublime effect, making perverts of us all.