It would not be disparaging to say that despite being only 40 minutes I was anxious for this show to end.

Set in the tiny Dome Foyer with bum-numbing floorboards to sit on, discomfort was all part of Look At Me Now, Mummy. The one-woman protagonist was not so much on the edge, as fully hurtling into the abyss.

Set in a chaotic kitchen strewn with utensils and salt, co-creator Aurora Lubos was engulfed in a kind of post-natal mania, veering between deranged laughter and desperate sobbing.

She flirted, strutted and fretted about, eyeing the audience and making them witnesses to her mental deterioration.

There was humour as she got tangled in balloons and bunting and bellowed a wine-soaked rendition of Amy Winehouse’s Back To Black. Like a contemporary twist on the physical comedy of Jacques Tati or even Mr Bean, her ‘baby’ – a ladle wrapped in greaseproof paper – ended being stuffed in the microwave and catching fire.

Devoid of dark humour was a harrowing birth scene which culminated in an attempt at self-caesarean.

Needless to say, director-choreographer and Brighton Festival associate Charlotte Vincent’s comi-tragedy was not one to sit back and enjoy, but the intensely confrontational performance made it powerful and unforgettable.

Two stars