THERE were neither puppets nor strings, and the only props were a beer mat, part of a champagne cork, a skateboard and a fan.

But the two male "puppeteers", naked apart from shoes and lurid socks, managed to keep an almost entirely female audience in fits of laughter for nearly an hour.

It could have all been so sleazy, but the performers were so engaging that we found ourselves looking at their faces as much as their groins.

Was it my imagination, or did the few men in the audience spend most of the show wincing and crossing their legs? Unfortunately none of them answered the invitation to join in.

For the rest of us, the fun was infectious. And that's not a word you would normally wish to associate with men's bits.