With a title that serves as an invitation as well as a description, Dave Simpson's show must be guaranteed a feisty audience wherever it goes.

No great surprise, therefore, that even Eastbourne rightly defies any lingering reputation for the stately and the staid by producing a theatre full of whooping enthusiasts.

From the opening sequence of probationary stripper, Simon Willmont, fumbling through his disrobing routine in front of a bedroom mirror, there was never much doubt the target audience was going to have a good time.

"Do you think I'm sexy?" sang Rod Stewart on the soundtrack. Silly question. The real query was whether there was anything more to this play than an excuse for five hunky blokes to strut their stuff, pose their pouches and excite the excitable.

The answer, in fact, is a resounding yes.

In the first half especially (the second is largely devoted to the showing part of the show) there is a sharp line in comic characterisation and even a sight of the exposed vein of human vulnerability.

Aunt Ivy (Linda Clark in Maureen Lipman mode) is fuelling her nieces and prospective daughter-in-law with brandy and Babycham prior to a surprise trip to the Fiesta Of Flesh.

This is, putatively, to celebrate the pre-nuptials of Claire Andreadis' heavily pregnant bride to be.

As the night wears on, Rebecca Sleeman's Nicola discovers revived passion after recognising her lover from what delicacy demands I describe as the fruitful nature of his neglected assets.

It all rolls along with easeful hilarity but, also, with enough realism to provoke genuine liking of the characters.

Principally, of course, the play remains what it calls itself but has enough extra for anyone who hasn't had sight of a bottle of Johnson's Baby Lotion since infancy.

Review by David Wilkins, features@theargus.co.uk