In the moss-covered remnants of a comedy club, amongst broken props, a snail-crossed setlist taped to the stage reads: "The bins are breeding and the fortune cookies are spilling their slips into the gutters".
Like an unmuted silent movie character in full colour, Humptdumptian Cobble Charmer James Hately stumbles into the microcosmic maelstrom of his own tattered thoughts, attempting to sow them into a tapestry. Groundedly off the wall. Funny bits a gogo.
