That South Africans Brad and Ashley Searle look like brothers from another mother is not the biggest surprise about Big Boys Don’t Dance.

The pair are built for a rugby team’s front row but dance like they’ve just walked off the set of Flashdance.

Brad is 6ft something, pale and ginger (“STRAWBERRY BLONDE!” as he regularly reminds Ash). His brother is shorter, darker, thinning out on top.

The pair used to be the party that rocked the party. In high school they were the best dancers bar none. But they’ve grown up. Ash is getting married. Brad might not be far behind.

When Ash’s stag do goes wrong, Brad knows the only way to pay for the fall-out after a night of strippers is to win a big dance competition. So Brad reminisces about the good old days – through the medium of 1990s chart dance, of course, with the pair dancing like extras from a pop tour – to tempt Ash into one last swan song.

The story – The Hangover meets Silver Linings Playbook – is silly and hilarious, both poignant and funny. Ash dressed all in red as Brad’s former sweetheart is genius.

There is brute strength and beauty, with Ash becoming a slow-ticking hand on a clock in one dance.

But most of all Big Boys Don’t Dance is the best type of Fringe theatre: entertaining, ego-less and eccentric.