As we enter the theatre, trawling the aisles is a performer donning evocative Christmas attire and sporting disco era hair.
She encourages patrons to partake in a Christmas carol. Refusal is met with a loud “f**k you”.
Naughty but nice. Laughter immediately ensues.
It sets the tone for an irreverent, rambunctious, fun and fanciful adults only variety show in which the “f bomb” is dropped liberally and full-frontal nudity is celebrated.
Mind you, amongst the hijinks there are strong messages about excess, loneliness, war and genocide, and the polar ice melt.
Created by Fat Fruit and director Susie Dee, F Christmas consists of skits, acrobatics (on the ground and in the air) and music, with a festive season theme.
It starts with a question: Why does Santa give more to rich kids than poor kids?
Songs, from pop and grudge to hip hop and soulful, include lyrics such as “The fat white man is going to judge you?”
Photos by Gregory Lorenzutti
That is when a surfeit of Santas appear en masse from under the extended red skirt of the songstress.
We wince at the discomfort hosts Andrew and Geraldine deliberately bring to their awkward version of Carols (by Candlelight).
A mini train chugs into view carrying a fruity character mouthing the words “I’m getting lucky for Christmas”. The finger, backward somersaults and the splits follow.
On band duty throughout is musical director and sound designer Bec Matthews, who has a moment when they take a faux call from their mother during the show.
For all intents and purposes, the “toleration nannies” look like a bunch of arch conservatives.
That is until they launch headfirst into a risqué number about taking you to a gay ball.
Dressing a Christmas tree never looked so good, courtesy of a fetching artiste who disrobes while doing so.
Try drinking eggnog by proxy. It is positively stomach churning. Let’s put it this way, once seen, it can’t be unseen.
With the cost of living being what it is, there is the suggestion of giving sex for Christmas, which opens the door to another decidedly left of centre routine.
A human Christmas cracker tries her hand at dad jokes before surprising with ardent vocalisation in the band and then enabling a hefty hula hoop to dominate her.
A mournful polar bear carries a heavy load.
Three low rise trampolinists lose any inhibitions.
A darkly comedic monologue about a tragic experience with Santa Claus as a nine-year-old will stay with me for a long time.
Flitting in and out of the action is an elf dressed in skintight red synthetic, who appears drunk and accusatory before exceling in an aerial ring routine.
Arguably my favourite scene (and the most outrageous) is a reenactment of the nativity, which sees Santa born the same day Jesus died.
And what better way to finish a subversive show like this than with a skinful from the 10 enthusiastic performers that constitute F Christmas?
Notably, designer Romanie Harper and those in wardrobe and workshop have reused and repurposed items from Christmases past. Waste not, want not.
F**k Christmas is 75 minutes of orchestrated anarchy and folly, coupled with pointed reflective moments, which hit the mark.
Yes, it’s queer – in the nicest possible use of the term.
A talented and enthusiastic cast takes all in their stride with dexterity and drive, the audience primed to lap it up, which we do.
F**k Christmas is gaudy, bawdy and belligerent, brave and bolshie. It is a show for the broad minded and is playing at Malthouse Theatre until 15th December, 2024.
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