Miriam Slater and Frances McNair, the dynamic team behind Sweaty Pits, are having themselves a pity party! They're pulling themselves out of their misery, and inviting along all the guys, gals, and non-binary pals for a night of music, dancing, sketchwork, and plenty of laughs.

It's difficult not to warm to these giant goofballs. The sketches are tightly rehearsed, and the character transformations are well realised, but it's the over-commitment to each and every bit that really sells this show. These performers would not hesitate to run head-first into a brick wall if the scene demanded it, and a lot of my favourite moments came from small character choices they made to accentuate a joke – the tit-bump, for example, still makes me wince.

The main suite of sketches were, sadly, a little uninspired. The post-partum workout routine, with its bogan eighties-chic flavour, felt a tad reminiscent of Kath & Kim. Likewise, the faux nature documentary, on hipster fuck-boys and their mating habits, is something that's been done many times before. The broad material was enthusiastically received by the audience, but I found it a bit too easy to predict the direction of each joke and set-up.

The weirder skits in the third act were much more my speed. The lemon sex show was a fun, juicy bit, and I loved the silliness of an anthropomorphised Chicxulub Impactor (aka, the asteroid or comet which wiped out the non-avian dinosaurs). I was also on board for the social messaging on the gender pay gap, unrealistic beauty standards, and the lessons to be learned in a toxic pick-up culture. The commitment to colourful, varied sketch is there, but I would have loved something with a bit more capacity to surprise.