Never has a Fringe title been more accurate. Batshit is exactly what it says on the tin—wild, absurd, and gloriously unpigeonholed.

Manchester’s Cheekykita has built a reputation for comedy that refuses to behave, and this year’s show might be her funniest yet. Trying to pin it down in prose is almost pointless: part stand-up showcase, part dance, part cabaret, part installation art. Imagine Kate Bush marrying The Mighty Boosh, with Harry Hill officiating, and you’re in the right ballpark.

The “plot,” such as it is, is simple. Cheekykita is a bat. She’s dressed as a bat, behaves like a bat, and from her cave introduces us to a cast of fellow oddballs: Bubble Woman, a trainee hairdresser, and her darker, wilder twin. It sounds like a doodle on a pub napkin that should never have left the beer mat—but what unfolds is meticulously chaotic. This isn’t student-theatre mess; it’s carefully engineered madness.

What makes it work is Cheekykita herself. With Mancunian charm and pop-culture wit, she’s endlessly engaging, never cruel, and somehow keeps the kaleidoscope spinning. Some of the audience sit baffled, eyes wide as if they’ve stumbled into the Springtime for Hitler scene in The Producers. That’s half the joy: watching the room convulsed with laughter while some look like they’ve wandered into a fever dream.

Will you enjoy it? That depends entirely on your sonar. Tune into this Batfink brilliance and you’ll have the time of your life. Resist it, and you’ll still leave knowing you’ve seen something gleefully different from 99% of the Fringe.

For me? I haven’t laughed this hard at any show all year. It’s rare to see a performer take risks this bold and pull them off with such conviction. Cheekykita proves that genuine absurdism isn’t dead—it’s flapping around City Café in a bat suit in all it’s magnificent glory.