You could say she combines the womanliness of Les Dawson, the seraphic voice of Cuban diva Margarita Pracatan, and hair to trigger Liza Minnelli's lawyers. But really, Seattle-based drag act Dina Martina is one of a kind. Performance artist Grady West is making his London debut, but there is no pause for introductions. This is high-octane, high-heeled silliness from a cross-dresser who looks like a trucker, belting out Bonnie Tyler between mouthfuls of spaghetti bolognese.
Of the transgender element of Dina's show, suffice to say that her simulation of femininity is about as successful as her simulation of sanity. Neither is suggested by an alarming turquoise jumpsuit, or lipstick that might have been applied by a drunken clown. But never fear, because "chunks of quality are going to be flying off this stage into your face in a moment. If they haven't already".
I was quite seduced by the gleefully senseless games with language, which involve swapping hard and soft gs (so "gifts" become "jifts"). And the hyperactive joy Dina takes in her songs is hard to resist, even as she monsters them with poorly remembered lyrics ("Listen or I'll have to scold/ Eat the cheese but not the mould") and bellowing bum notes.
The OTT tone doesn't let up; Dina is not a credible character in any sense, which is a shame. And the energy lags in her anecdotal interludes. OK, she has an ingenious solution to "global warning", which is that we all collect seawater and boil it until it disappears. But the script isn't always as funny as the performance: I could have lived without the ironic gay-bashing and the gift shop giveaways. The effect is as dementedly slapdash as Dina's makeup, and as broad as the panto dame she ought to become.
· Until May 10. Box office: 0870 429 6883.
