Humans are a contrary lot.

We make rules but don’t like them. Religion demands purity but we all know those monks have dirty habits.

Cockaigne (from the latin for kitchen) is a stalwart of the medieval naughty genre. It tells of a land where sloth and debauchery are compulsory and ready-roasted chickens drop from the sky.

Poet Catherine Smith, twice shortlisted for the Forward Prize, retells this classic verse tale with a contemporary spin in a pre-election period that feels (we hope) like the dog end of austerity.

Then again, austerity always feels like a dog end.

In Smith’s witty, risqué version, the state takes care of every need and unemployment is compulsory. Car parks are turned over to daylight dogging (one for the Lewes traffic wardens) and heroin falls as snow.

But when excess is eventually ended by a miserablist coup the audience actually cheer (it’s Lewes) for the forced reintroduction of brassicas, though they do reach for the wine-gums and liquorice all-sorts provided.

Lewes Live Lit specialises in turning such tasty offerings into a feast and this boisterous semi-staged production, with live music, was a dish of delicious possibilities.