There was a packed house for this remarkable show — they were even turning people away — and those who had seats certainly got their money’s worth. The stage is perhaps some sort of storeroom or interior junkyard. It’s full of car tyres, lumps of wood, a pole, a trampoline, all sorts of bits and pieces. Three men are sitting disconsolately around. They’re bored, looking for something to do. Two of them fight, and immediately we see that these aren’t the ordinary blokes they seem.

Kalle Lehto is, among other talents, a break-dancer; Petri Tuominen is a martial arts expert. They throw each other around, spinning in the air, crashing to the floor; it looks painful. But Petri’s real vocation is the Chinese pole. He scampers up and down, sliding and turning. Rauli Kosonen is a trampolinist of breathtaking skill and endurance. His closing sequence is a series of double somersaults, flips and twists. It looks like a non-stop series of Olympic dives that goes on for several astonishing minutes.

But this show isn’t a string of one-at-a-time acts; it’s three young men kicking their heels in a workshop, and then using everything around them to produce some unlikely piece of circus, in a fusion of their abilities. They slouch around and then suddenly do something amazing; they scoot over the stage on big rubber balls, build towers of tyres into which Rauli disappears, and, on two small trampolines, all three come together in what’s a sort of aerial dance, narrowly missing each other as they fly from one to the other, spinning through the air in increasingly complex manoeuvres.

Suddenly a board is supported on four tyres and Kelle goes into a break-dance routine on this tiny dance floor. The whole performance goes along as though they can’t really be bothered, and out of this simulated apathy springs a terrific show. The thing that surprised me was the amount of humour in it — the audience, including me, were smiling or laughing nearly all the time.