It is the critic’s job to warn people who may wish to part with their money and wander into the cute little theatre above the Three And Ten to watch The Open Couple simply because they know this is a play written by renowned Italian playwright Dario Fo and his wife Franca Rame.

Billed as a “white-knuckle black farce” in which the hypocrisies of sexual liberation are dissected, a man persuades his suicidal wife that an open marriage is politically correct and embarks on dalliances with younger women, to her dismay.

The tables are turned when she confesses to a new man, and her husband becomes suicidal. Sounds interesting, but with a play one ideally cares about the characters, which was impossible here. Whether it was because the script seemed dated and poorly written, or because of the wildly over-acting performers, I am still unsure.

I sat, dry-mouthed and staring in ill-disguised horror at the “comedy” enfolding before me, while my companion gazed intently at the small patch of floorboard by her feet rather than endure the spectacle.

The pervasive sense of relief as the play finally ended was palpable.