It’s hard to explain To Watch A Man Eat. You might think it’s about toxic masculinity – until you realise that a woman is the most destructive character of all. You might reject the crudely-drawn stereotypes, until they’re flipped over to reveal a vulnerable underside. And just in case you’re wondering, it does put literal eating right there on stage – with a plate of spare ribs that are torn apart in a feral depiction of “manhood”.

The man we watch eat is nepo baby Andrew, a twenty-something City boy on his way to the top at his father’s firm. He’s an ugly stereotype, both in concept and in detail: a cardboard-cutout parody of everything we find repulsive, embodied with relish by George Lorimer. His wife Melissa, chillingly played by Lily Walker, is an equally clichéd vixen, using sex to hold power over her weak-willed husband while obsessively guarding the social status he unlocks. But both these dislikeable figures hide deep insecurities which, despite everything that repels us, invite our sympathy – or at least our concern.

Relief from the obnoxious couple is offered by firefighter Micky, who initially appears as a simple narrator but later emerges as a character in his own right. He’s likeable – admirable, in fact – and in contrast to the performatively disciplined Andrew, makes a convincing case for enjoying life’s rewards as and when you can. But Micky feels pressures too, the weight of expectation from his perceived heroic role, and George Usher does an excellent job of portraying repressed torment. A brief pause here, a quiet glance there are enough to hint at darkness within.

Sadie Pearson’s script explores some fascinating places. The pursuit of success is a theme: what it looks like, what it’s worth, how it’s earned. There’s a hint of co-dependency between Andrew and Melissa, with each one’s shallowness feeding off the other, and clever use of language to reveal inner thoughts that all three characters might have hoped to keep concealed. There’s some class-consciousness mixed in too – a pointed acknowledgement that for all his blue-collar background, it’s Micky who relies most on his innate ability to learn.

The last scene, however, is a massive swerve, which prompts us to rethink the relationships and motivations we’ve seen portrayed. The hints as to what might happen are there to be spotted, but it’s still a sudden lurch which I struggled to interpret alongside the rest of the play. There’s also a bold moral statement towards the end – the author’s voice ringing through in a way which, to me, didn’t feel entirely earned.

But this is just my own reading: perhaps you’ll take an entirely different message away from the show. There’s a lot to unpick in To Watch A Man Eat, which transcends its weird title and offputting main characters, to become something genuinely thought-provoking and new. A troubling and ambiguous work – and one which both challenges and entertains.