Bunny ★★★½

Bunny — ★★★½

Bunny comes bounding out of the gate with confidence, good vocals and the immediate sense that things are about to get wonderfully unhinged.

Funny, silly, camp and just dark enough, this is exactly the kind of slightly chaotic creation that feels at home at the Fringe. There is good writing underneath the madness and, crucially, a performer with genuine stage presence who knows how to hold a room and tell a story.

Vocally, Bunny is strong, although the diction could use a little sharpening. Some lyrics disappear along the way, possibly an accent-meets-my-ear situation, but never enough to derail the storytelling or enjoyment of the songs.

There are also some gloriously unexpected choices. The decision to perform without nipple covers feels almost strangely subversive in a show like this, and that sense of refusing to behave quite as expected runs throughout the performance.

At times, I felt personally read to filth. Rude.

The storytelling flows well, with sniggers and giggles aplenty, and the staging allows the star to command the space. It’s surprising, knowingly ridiculous and occasionally deliciously dark. You get exactly the kind of show promised on the label, but there are enough unexpected turns to prevent it becoming predictable.

Is it polished to perfection? No — and some of that roughness is part of its charm. There are moments that need tightening, the musical clarity could improve and a little cleaning around the edges would allow the strongest material to land even harder.

But perhaps perfection isn’t what Bunny needs. This is Fringe artistry in its natural habitat: bold, peculiar, personal and prepared to take a risk.

A Glaswegian off-licence is no place for this star. An international tour might be, just give Bunny a little more time to sharpen its claws before packing the passport.

Unhinged, fabulous and very Fringe.

★★★½