This is a show that will divide opinion. It’s full of smutty innuendo, in the grand British tradition of ribald comedy (albeit that it gets much more explicit than they did in the days of Carry On). It lampoons a parade of stereotype characters, including a born-again Christian and a dim-witted handyman. If you’re up for that – and most of the audience were – then you’re in for a rollicking time. But for me, there’s one fatal flaw.

Geography teacher Dan, outwardly the epitome of pleasant dullness, has a penchant for rumpy-pumpy while his wife Polly is away. But the excitement proves too much for his randy partner Edgar, who promptly pegs it, leaving Dan with a body in his bed and a lot to explain to his wife. As if that wasn’t enough, the deceased man returns as a ghost – and, anxious to preserve his own reputation, encourages his ex-lover into an ever more desperate cover-up. Before long, Edgar’s isn’t the only corpse hidden under Dan’s bed.

With its domestic setting and quotidian characters, it can feel at times like a 1970s sitcom – but when you look closely, it’s subtler and better than that. There’s some legitimate satire around Edgar, who has a reason to hide his peccadillo that we aren’t told at first, and his ghost’s camp sense of mischief works well to drive the storyline. And though a same-sex tryst is at the heart of the plot, that fact’s never played for cheap laughs; if anything, it’s quite progressive that the protagonists are bi.

For me though, the action doesn’t hit the farcical heights needed to offset a profoundly disturbing plot. I can see what they’re going for: a ridiculous black comedy where the bodies pile up so freely, we discard any sense of reality and embrace the absurdity of the carnage. But the murders are too visceral, too reminiscent of real-world horror. The deviant Edgar is a silly enough figure that it feels OK to laugh at his death, but the innocent Polly isn’t.

All the same, the show’s energetic and funny, and delivered with complete commitment by a large and engaging cast. There’s a place at the Fringe for shows like Stiff, as the sell-out crowd confirmed. The concept wasn’t for me this time – but plenty around me loved it.