It almost feels rude to wrest any sort of sociopolitical commentary into a review of The Choir of Man.

Nic Doodson and Andrew Kay’s Fringe favourite-turned-global phenomenon is such an unpatronising, nuanced beast, one that deftly avoids any overt commentary or gender politics even when they’re right there for the plucking, that it feels clunky to go there.

But there’s no shying away from it.

In a world of Incel culture horrors, heinous social media algorithms and the sobering lessons born of the likes of Adolescence, The Choir of Man is the ultimate tonic (no gin required).

Set in a microcosmic boozer (‘The Jungle’… yes, the Guns’ N’ Roses classic features) the likes of which the show opines as being something of a vanishing creed, Choir is a buoyant, irrepressible celebration and reclamation of so many things that seem to have otherwise collectedly given modern society the ick.

“…a buoyant, irrepressible celebration and reclamation of so many things that seem to have otherwise collectedly given modern society the ick.”

It is distinctly, unabashedly British with nary a trace of jingoism. It is a kaleidoscope of healthy, positive, relatable masculinity, without any lingering shadow of misogyny or toxicity.

But more than any and all of that, it’s a bloody good time with the lads.

A jukebox affair that musically bounces through everything from The Proclaimers to Sia and even Toy Story, if you strip Choir back to its brawny bones then it is, essentially, a series of vignettes brilliantly performed and winningly staged by a loveable troupe of nine very talented actor-musos.

Think of it as Six, gender-flipped, period-jumped, and plonked into your local.

From the outset, Choir of Man is an almost folksy piece, more interested in being contemplative and evoking a sense of place, or state of mind, than telling a story, per se. What inference of a narrative there is is mainly scene-setting, framing the eponymous musical troupe who take residence at ‘The Jungle’ (We didn’t know pub choirs were a thing, but on the merit seen here, sign us up!).

The Jungle’s resident poet-cum-narrator, Oluwalonimi (Nimi) Owoyemi is the warm, engaging centre of the piece, incrementally introducing us to what are the pub’s archetypal finds. There’s the ‘romantic’ who soulfully belts to Adele, the ‘hard man’ who roars John Farnham’s ‘You’re the Voice’, and even the ‘bore’, who delivers some Andy Williams, even as an audience member pulled onto the stage sits building a house of cards beside him.

Yet as the show jaunts through colourful musical numbers and a lock-in’s load of audience participation, it’s the blending of fiction and reality that truly sings. Owoyemi’s poignant, touching monologues infuse the IRL backstories, trials and dreams of the cast into the show, lending all the spirited bravura real heart and pathos. Credit to Doodson and monologues writer, Ben Norris, for the affecting work done here.

“For a show that speaks so much of community and a sense of welcome, it’s a credo that carries through to every minute of this infectious theatregoing experience.”

But if that all sounds like it’s threatening to get a little morose or self-indulgent, fear not – The Choir of Man is relentlessly cheery, upbeat and fist-pumpingly enjoyable throughout. Even before the show begins, audience members are invited to purchase a pint on stage. In the interval, the bar opens once again, with members of the cast jaunting about to chat and take selfies. For a show that speaks so much of community and a sense of welcome, it’s a credo that carries through to every minute of this infectious theatregoing experience.

A truly ensemble piece, to single out any of the remarkable lineup of principles assembled for the tour would definitely be a disservice. In the performance reviewed, all but one of the principles took to the stage, with swing member Niall Woodson on – and doing a terrific, toe-tapping job – as the ‘Handyman’. But genuinely, every single one of the company – Sam Walter, Joshua Lloyd, Gustav Melbardis, Levi Tyrell Johnson, Rob Godfrey, Aaron Pottenger, Ben Mabberley and the aforementioned Owoyemi – are tremendous. The vocals are knockout, the harmonies pitch-perfect, the character work is funny in crowd-pleasing, inoffensive fashion, the energy levels never falter and the multiple uproarious, well-earned standing ovations were amongst the most fervent and impassioned this particular reviewer has experienced in the past fifteen years. Sure, it probably could do without an extended urinal sequence but, hey, it still got the laughs.

And that’s all without going anywhere near one of the highlights of the evening, where the local, 200-strong Got2Sing choir were invited to stand and join in with the lads for a rousing reprise of ‘Chandelier’ which left nary a dry eye in the house.

In all (the gaffer just called last orders), The Choir of Man is, like any good night down the pub or simply shared with friends, a joyous remedy for whatever ails you. Brilliantly and immersively staged, boldly and tirelessly performed, it is, measure for measure, one of the most irrepressible and rhapsodic evenings of theatre you could ask for.

And at a lean, perfectly-judged 2 hours (including interval), pulsing with bonhomie and feel good to spare, it is a vibrant, energetic and rollicking good night out and, in difficult and divisive times, exactly the kind of show the world needs right now.