Champ

The Fringe showcases a range of South African talent this year, offering a further piece of artistic exoticism. But the Rainbow Nation looks decidedly monochrome in this dark comedy about three struggling actors reduced to dressing up as bears in a South African shopping arcade.

In an expletive-riddled hour, things go from depressing to hopeless as the men return to the locker from the factory floor, where they are paid to sing songs to South Africa’s spoiled nouveau riche and sacrifice their dignity at the altar of the country’s brave new World Cup world of strip malls and brutal capitalism.

At its best points, it is supremely funny, and some swear words come out turbocharged in a South African accent, whilst at its worst it needs more concentrated acting to keep up with its zippy and well-conceived script. It also appeals to anyone who has ever found themselves living a different life to the one they signed up to, and desperate men are wont to resort to desperate measures. Such measures include getting blind drunk and pouring a cup of piss over a brat.

To an audience unfamiliar with some of the country’s nuances, what should be good jokes fall a bit flat, but the refusal to move the action away from South Africa gives it a richness. With an all-white cast it also makes an implicit point about how class can be as much of a divide as race. A good guide to adding insults to personal injury.