In chess, there’s a notorious sequence of play known as the “scholar’s mate”. It’s a bit of a cheap trick – a trap you can lay for an inexperienced player, inviting a blunder which ends the game before it’s properly begun. This one-of-a-kind one-man show re-imagines the scholar’s mate as an eternal battle, fought in the world of a fever dream between a quick-witted protagonist and his mysterious opponent. Together, they travel through a rich and disconcerting landscape, filled with oversized characters and whimsical themes. And they play a lot of chess.

Each of the places they visit is fantastical and absurd, yet rooted in a reality we can recognise. There’s an echo of university – or is it Hogwart’s? – and a memory of happy days in the sunshine. There’s the comfort that comes from a favourite food, and the grimness of travel to a place you don’t want to be. Actor-playwright Matt Bader evokes each location with a deft comic touch, flipping between roles and narrating the detail of the scene, deploying a kind of delirious but measured energy which keeps the train on its tracks and chugging happily along.

Every encounter brings a new game of chess, which we can follow in diagrammatic form on a TV positioned behind the stage. And here’s both a hidden delight a possible sticking-point: you don’t have to know chess to follow the storyline, but you’ll enjoy an extra layer of meaning if you do. The ebb and flow of each game subtly reflects the dialogue – and if you can spot an obvious mate in two or feel the inherent menace in a pair of passed pawns, then a new level of drama will be unlocked for you. One image of drunken friendship becomes hilarious when you know they’re playing terribly, and so the genuinely poignant moment that follows digs a little deeper into your soul.

Bader does make a credible attempt to guide chess novices, with markers such as “!!” (a great move) and “!?” (a surprising one) appearing on the screen. He also has a fine turn of phrase in discussing the match-ups: references to a “tender pawn” or the “sexiest of all chess moves” enliven the commentary, and there’s a drive and excitement to his chatter which defies the fusty image of the game. But still, to get the most out of this you need to know more than how the pieces move, and an audience which appreciates both chess and wacky theatre may not be that easy to find.

If you’re in that segment of life’s Venn diagram, though, you absolutely shouldn’t miss this show. It’s a loving homage to obsession with a detail, and it’s something more profound besides. The true meaning’s revealed in an explanatory epilogue played out over the speakers – a gambit I’d normally sneer at, but which here I accept as a privilege earned. It’s fitting, after all, that this tale of comfort won and lost should end with an emotional skewer.