How would you spend the last hour of your life? James Rowland offers up this intriguing question as a way to celebrate tiny moments of joy and appreciate our place in the world. His idea on how to answer such profundity is to weave together rich storytelling, gentle comedy, and an unbridled enthusiasm for life, the universe and everything – with a stopwatch counting down the minutes until his inevitable demise.

The third and final part of his Fringe trilogy that began with Learning to Fly and Piece of Work, Rowland’s self described Memento Mori is both anchored and fuelled by his infectious enthusiasm for the things and people that he loves. Bare buttocked and beatific in red crocs and surgical gown, he uses the enclosed space of the Anatomy Lecture Theatre as a pulpit on which to serenade his flock like a slightly indecent messiah.

Forearmed with a a tatty sheaf of papers that act as triggers for favourite quotes, anecdotes and reminiscences, Rowland creates touching vignettes that interlock and dovetail beautifully. Whether singing songs to his beloved cat Doof or exploring the finer points of the Voyager mission and the relationship history of Carl Sagan, it all swirls around the idea of love being our universal constant, a guiding force for joy and goodness. In other hands this could be cloying or mawkish, but Rowland’s energy and earnestness is disarming.

His love of music is also a key touchpoint, excitedly chatting through the different versions of his favourite songs, or setting up huge heart swells as the soundtrack to a riotous romp with Robin Hood. You feel privileged to be part of Rowland’s deeply personal journey, as he whispers little secrets ’til his time comes.

A sorely needed exercise in being thankful from an expert story teller.

James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show has finished its run