It's quarter to ten on a Saturday night. In the magical space that is Gluttony, fairy lights dazzle over a loud and boisterous crowd. Music pounds from different directions and clowns bounce between a gridlock of people. The queue for the bar spills into the audience for a sideshow which spills into the herd at the food trucks. Rymill Park is alive.
A line has already started to form outside La Petite Grande, a small yellow tent, where the After Hours Cabaret Club is soon to begin.
A jovial lady begins to wander up and down the line and greet guests. She's dressed in a bright, sparkly green cloak and her lips are plumped red and glittery. She is donning a pearly smile and swigging from a wine bottle. She warns you that you're about to see some whacky stuff, but it'll all be loads of fun.
Whispers and giggles start spreading down the line - "is she gonna be in this show? is she drunk?"
Trotting along behind her is a mime artist. When he approaches, he nips your ticket out of your hands and checks you're heading to the cabaret. You are? Thumbs up. Carry on.
The curtains are eventually strung open for guests to start rolling in and finding their seats. You peer behind you and notice the line has stretched long and far down the pathway. There would easily be over 100 people waiting. Surely you won't all fit in.
You're proved wrong. To the sounds of a rumbling five-piece jazz band, everyone is hustled into the tent and squished up next to each other on long benches. That dude standing behind you in the line outside? You're about to be sitting in each other's pockets for the next hour. If you think that's too intimate, then you're really not prepared for what you're about to see on stage.
Say a big hello to Tash York, award-winning cabaret loyalty. Her dynamic energy fills the tent and absorbs the attention of the audience. She's ballsy. Witty. Not afraid to swear once or twice. Once or twice in every sentence, that is. She sings, chats and introduces you to your first performer of the night: Kelly Ann Doll.
The Australian burlesque icon stumbles onto the stage. Is she drunk too? The lights reflect off of her heavily embellished red costume and nearly blind the crowd. Never fear, that costume won't even be on her body soon. Her sassy and saucy dancing ignites cheers and hollering. One man in the front row is treated to a special surprise. His poor wife sitting next to him is less than impressed.
To switch up the mood a little, you're presented with David Splatt, the mime artist you met earlier. With a saw and a bow, he creates music and entices the crowd into a sing-a-long. It's odd and remarkable. He demonstrates some hilarious puppetry too. Not to mention the usual mime stuff - pulling sad faces, getting sympathy from the crowd.
Up next is the raunchy Bettie Bombshell. She's a burlesque superstar, but she's also the producer of the show. She knows a thing or two about captivating an audience. Within minutes, her clothes are gone and she's engaging in some seriously smutty dancing. It's easier on the eye than what you're about to watch.
Samora Squid hops up onto the stage and you know his act is going to be trouble as soon as he opens his mouth: "has anyone got a spare condom?" No, it's not for the reason you immediately think of. In fact, it's far from what you expect. The condom goes up his nose and comes out of his mouth. Everybody watching is left in total, complete, utter confusion and shock. There's some sword swallowing that follows. It's insane. You're begging for someone more normal to take over the stage.
Your prayers are answered. Kind of. It's Miss May, a burlesque dancer. Her act is supplemented with a 24 pack of chicken nuggets and a Big Mac from McDonald's. You've never seen someone eat their dinner so... sexually. It's entertaining, nonetheless.
To top it all off, there's Reuben Dotdotdot. He does a handstand on eggs. Naked. Enough said.
You've only been in the tent for an hour and your jaw has dropped so low that it might stay like that for the next week. You wish you could stay longer and see more, but the performers tell you that your time is up. They want to hit the bar.
The After Hours Cabaret Club is the only destination at the Adelaide Fringe where you can get a whole bunch of weird, disparate acts wrapped up into one show. Cabaret, burlesque, sideshow and circus. Your eyes will be popping out of your head.
It's scandalously sophisticated, deliciously debauched and wildly unpredictable.
Top tip: get a drink before the show starts, you'll need it.