A rainbow jumble of objects scatters across the stage. A shy puppet peeks at us, then – terrified by our presence – buries its face in its “mother’s” shoulder. The mother is Lizzie Bean, and she’s lived a life as varied and colourful as the props she’s brought along. But as we’ll learn over the course of this vulnerable, uplifting show, she’s been chasing something all that time: a feeling in her stomach that tells her she loves herself, and that her whole existence is worthwhile.

I’m not sure how I expected Bean to open, but it wasn’t by breaking into song. Her voice is stirring, soulful, and I could listen to it all day; but it’s not operatically perfect, and that imperfection’s the whole point. Nobody tells a child they can’t be an astronaut, she sings, so why do we tell grown-ups they can’t try something new? And so begins this very personal study of the gentle art of “Phuckets” – though the language she uses during the show is slightly less coy.

Bean’s delivery is breathless, purposeful, filled with a sense of fun. Props emerge one by one from a perfectly packed suitcase, are brandished for a while and then impishly tossed aside. It’s a clever visual metaphor for the story of Bean’s life, which features more chapters than most of us cram in: she’s had an office phase, she’s had a yoga phase, she’s run the London Marathon. In one of the most touching episodes she goes on a philanthropic clowning tour, which sounds like it’s the set-up for a joke but turns out to be authentically a thing.

She’s also a mother of four, a fact she proudly foregrounds as the most important adventure of all. Yet there’s always something darker there – a shower of rain to spoil the sunny day. It’s the callous put-down from a jealous friend, the clique she sees forming around a hobby she’d thought she’d love… and underlying it all, the message she first heard when she was eight years old, that her body’s the thing that defines her. The memories are raw and sometimes heartbreaking, but that makes the affirmation she arrives at in her inspiring closing song sweeter still.

There are emotional beats that might be held for longer, at times the costume changes pull down the pace, and I certainly wish there were another song or two. But, Phucket. This is a generous and inventive show that delivers a message the world needs to hear. Five stars.