It sounded like the outer reaches of Fringe weirdness - an hour in a small, hot room being entertained by a man with socks on his hands. Surprisingly, it was brilliant.

With such a simple concept as a starting point, the show relied on an imaginative, fast-paced script and some excellent puppetry. Within minutes you had, somehow, forgotten there was a human behind these bickering, stinking, goggle-eyed creations.

The humour was fittingly childish. Gags revolved around repetition, silly arguments and daft, tuneless musical skits. One sketch was about the persistence of drama students promoting shows on Edinburgh's Royal Mile during Fringe season. Think Arthur Brown's song Fire, replaced with the word "flyer" and performed by a melodramatic grey sock wielding a tiny guitar.

Another saw the socks in wooing mode, singing the Frank Sinatra duet Somethin' Stupid, helped along by lashings of snakebite and Buckfast.

Much of it worked simply because of the ongoing absurdity of the situation.

Their "slightly abridged" Romeo And Juliet was farcically funny ("I am Juliet, I am a Catapultyes, I'm sure. That's what it says in the script") but more so because it was being performed by two squeaky-voiced socks in token costume.

By the finale, the duo were going for out-and-out purile daftness, in a foul-mouthed spoof of the Carpenters' Close To You, and the audience was in tears.

What a shame this was only here for one night - it must be seen to be fully appreciated.