It’s easy to get so swept up by the gobsmacking did-they-really-just-say-that brazenness of Parker, Lopez and Stone’s The Book of Mormon that you almost forget how infectiously great a show it is of its own merit. All the talk of doing unspeakable things to womens’ genitalia and amphibians belies both a surprisingly optimistic and affirming story of the power of storytelling and belief, and a corker of a musical to boot.

But there’s no getting around those maggots in the scrotum (…it’s an in-joke). Much like Stone and Parker’s calling card, South Park, Mormon is certainly not for the easily offended. In fact, arriving in Birmingham for a Christmas tenure at the Alexandra, it’s about as far from family-friendly Hallmark holiday fare that you can get. Though to obsess on its unapologetic frankness and frequent crudeness would, much like South Park before it, bypass the liberal doses of wit and satire that fire maniacally out in every direction. Organised religion. The inherent silliness of the Joseph Smith fable. Homoerotic repression. Cultural appropriation. Few targets are spared, yet there’s an admirable earnest streak to the biting commentary here, one that means its humour often lands all the harder because of the nuggets of truth found within.

If you don’t like a village of Ugandan natives blaspheming to the almighty, try living there a couple of days yourself, Mormon challenges its audience, during its sidesplittingly blue riff on The Lion King’s ‘Hakuna Matata’.

“Few targets are spared, and yet there’s an admirable earnest streak to the biting commentary here…”

For some, it may be a little too coarse and unsanitised, but for everyone else it’s a raucous, frequently laugh-out-loud comedic whirlwind.

Mormon centres around the debut mission of two newly graduated Latter Day Saints missionaries – the idealistic yet somewhat self-centred Elder Price (Adam Bailey) and the klutzy yet well-meaning Elder Cunningham (Sam Glen). Price’s boyish dreams of proselytising in likes of Orlando, Florida are dashed when the duo are sent to spread the titular gospel to the war-torn and povert-stricken ravages of Uganda.

Upon arriving, they soon discover that the natives have slightly more pressing matters – from a raging warlord to rampant disease – to worry about over their supposed salvation.

Modern sensibilities may at first appear to crash headfirst into some of the representation and depictions found in Mormon. It’s easy to initially feel that it is all surely a bit problematic, but in testimony to Parker, Lopez and Stone’s book, as its absurd tale develops you come to quickly realise that this is actually a far cleverer, more sympathetic and honest appraisal than all the f-bombs and liberal use of the c-word (yes, that one) would seem to first indicate. Just as you think it may be slipping into bad habits, it comes along and takes glee at ridiculing the white saviour complex, or makes an earnest demonstration of the power of faith. Mormon allows it audience be in on the joke throughout, and it’s often our own preconceptions or stereotypes that it takes its shrewdest potshots at.

“Many of its numbers are heavily parodic in nature, and Parker and Stone’s genuine love for a song and dance number can be felt throughout…”

Even with such solid and knowing writing, though, what really seals the Mormon deal is its irrefutable clout as a piece of musical storytelling. Many of its numbers are heavily parodic in nature, and Parker and Stone’s genuine love for a song and dance number can be felt throughout (an instinct that served them similarly well for the disarmingly wonderful South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut, itself a canny, Oscar-nominated musical). There’s the hilarious, toe-tapping chorus line of ‘Turn It Off’, along with riffs and nods to everything from Wicked, The King and I to, yes, The Lion King. And there’s still plenty of space for quintessential Parker and Stone fare, too, such as the Jeffrey Dahmer and Genghis Khan-populated hellscapes of ‘Spooky Mormon Hell Dream’.

Mormon’s impressive soundtrack pulses with the language and love of musical theatre throughout, along with that unmistakable Parker-Stone streak. It’s a winning earworm of a combination.

For the current leg of the UK tour, a solid cast bring the animated chaos to life with real zest. Adam Bailey and Sam Glen are great fun as Elders Price and Cunningham respectively, giving spirited and characterful turns and doing a great job with some demanding sings. Nyah Nish, meanwhile, is fantastic as naive young Nabulungi, whose yearning for an escape to a better life is beautifully depicted with impressive vocals and a sweetly endearing turn. Kirk Patterson and Will Barrett pop up throughout and entertain in bit parts, but it’s Tom Bales as repressed Elder McKinley who routinely threatens to steal the whole show. As well as being in fine voice, Bales is comedic gold throughout, infusing every gesture and inflection of his closeted missionary with infectious sass and fabulousness.

Although Scott Pask’s staging is understandably somewhat tapered down on tour, with some of the bigger numbers such as its early Act II depiction of hell a little dialled down by comparison to its west end counterpart, there’s still plenty of visual storytelling and character etched in throughout. And the tirelessly hard-working company make sure the big musical moments of the likes of ‘I Am Africa’ and ‘Turn It Off’ truly sing.

If you can stomach its frequent naughtiness and agree with the school of thought that satire should scarcely pull its punches, you’ll find in The Book of Mormon a must-see slice of scathing silliness with a surprising amount of depth, nuance and heart beneath all the bawdiness. Let yourselves be baptised in the irreverent, warts-and-all waters of Stone, Lopez and Parker and enjoy a wholly original musical that is both heaven-sent and shamelessly sinful at once.