Barbara Fernandez might not be a name that rolls off the tongue  but this silver minx arrives on the Free Fringe with a lo-fi cabaret memoir soaked in song and scandal.

She’s lived a life — married three times, to both the questionable and the lovely — and Singing, Sagging and Shagging gives us the juicy edit. We’re talking cult-loving (more Scientologist than Sundance) husband, sleazy record producers, hots-for-therapists, and the kind of odd jobs only showbiz survivors truly understand.

You’re not supposed to ask a lady her age, but let’s just say Fernandez is defying gravity — and looks stunning doing it. Ageing, sagging, bodily functions: she takes it all on with wit, warmth, and zero filter. She jokes about taking all night to do what she used to do all night — and the transformation of body and self over time — but never plays for pity. She’s still glamorous and now doing it by her rules.

Crucially, she never stoops to name-dropping. She’s had adventures, plenty of them outrageous, but Fernandez isn’t here to brag. She’s here to sing.

And what a set of pipes. Her voice is her biggest asset: imagine Ethel Merman in a Squid Game death match with Liza Minnelli and Debbie Reynolds — with Ariana Grande unceremoniously booted off the stage. She belts, croons and trills her way through songs that swing from Spice Girls sass to Patti LaBelle power. It’s musical mayhem, with bite.

This isn’t a brain-dump memoir — more of a musical sorbet with champagne bubbles. And while the structure has body it doesn’t quite hit the home run, but It fizzes along, cheeky and unexpected, delivered with real stage presence. Fernandez commands the room like she’s closing out Carnegie Hall — even if it’s mid-afternoon in a back room behind the Royal Mile.

If you’re after deft storytelling, big vocals, bawdy humour and the occasional shagging anecdote — this does exactly what it says on the tin. Hits every G-spot. Worth tracking down.