The Magnets

This is the Magnets’ fifth successive year on the fringe, filling that vocalising cabaret spot once occupied by the Flying Pickets and still flourishing with Fascinating Aida and those five guys next door in the zoot suits.

We are given some personal insights with each singer showing “where he lives” in a sextet of scenic shrines containing photos, football shirts, and – in the case of “six livers” Ray, the beguiling, dread-locked bass singer – an adored bottle of whisky.

The group’s origins in street busking are fully honoured: one scat-singing, doowop number consisting merely of microphone noises, is as brilliant a technical feat as you’ll see anywhere this year; and an A to Z of film scores is a real favourite. Undemanding fun.