It’s funny for a while, but as Tom re-spools his office love affair with Amy, spliced with memories of his childhood sweetheart Alison – both girls played monotonously by Alison O'Donnell – Lyndsey Turner’s production feels increasingly like a repetitive first draft.
Perhaps it will improve with cuts and re-writes, but the engaging Iain Robertson, very good at hangdog scruffiness and spotty sexuality – soon runs out of rope in his portrait of nerdy but laddish Tom. Rosalind Sydney chips in well as a third, catalytic party.
Chloe Lamford’s set is a vast cavern of cardboard boxes, but we never know what is sold or manufactured here. And I really don't want to see any more onstage masturbation this festival; I feel like a husk already.