Men created the myth of the seductive, life-sucking Succubus to demonise sexually confident women.  And after being called one by a reviewer, Katie Norris is now reclaiming the word as a badge of honour.

Yet she’s also very much over the opposite sex. 143 first dates (and no second dates) will do that to a person, as she finally decides it’s time to turn off the sushi train of inadequate, mansplaining bores. She says she’s fed up with the male gaze and will now be wooing the male gays – aiming to oust Jane McDonald in their pantheon of icons.

Her decision triggers shudder-inducing memories of how creepily men treat women in hospitality and how it could possibly have been right that she was cast as a Victorian prostitute in a Year 9 school production. More positive are formative memories of how Eurotrash celebrated kinks of every kind, evoking a special kind of nostalgia among audience members of a certain age.

Norris also considers the sort of activities women do together as they become invisible to the male gaze, from wild swimming to joining a community choir – prompting her solo, mocking recreation of the Military Wives. Norris’s haughty attitude is the star of the show – with command or humiliation just a withering glance or sarcastic smile away – but the songs come a close second.

Other sections barely fit the premise at all, such as her best anecdote about what was causing an odd noise coming from her car. It contributes to the feeling the show is a collection of amusing, but disparate, routines rather than having a strong, coherent purpose.  Even the idea posited up top of giving up men to become a gay icon doesn’t have follow-through. Meanwhile, her penchant for the absurd fudges the truths at the heart of the show.

Norris has a strong visual aesthetic – wearing a gothic fitted bodice that she accessorises with a black crow – but the material does not feel similarly bound to a single vision, although plenty of it is decently funny.