Doctor and comedian Kirsty Mann might be an anaesthetist but she won’t put you to sleep. Instead, she switches on the laughing gas in a surgically-precise stand-up routine about leading a double life, and the nauseousness of the ubiquitous question: what do you do?

Perhaps one of the most insidious consequences of modern capitalist society is the assumption an individual can be neatly categorised according to their chosen profession. Leaving aside the likelihood that in our modern economy, just one job is rarely enough, making diagnoses such as 'a doctor must be x and a comedian must be y' will inevitably lead to incorrect conclusions.

'Skeletons' exposes the flaws of the 'what do you do' heuristic.

Societal pressures about what one can and can’t do or be, though, did lead Mann to live a double life: emergency room by day, pantomime stage by night. 'Skeletons', like the show itself, is a neat play on words: she has some in the x-rays she examines, and one in her closet. Using slick sound design, lighting, a wit like a scalpel and a heavy dose of impersonations, Mann stitches together her stranger-than-fiction life into a heart-racing hour of comedy.

There are affairs with Dr McDreamy, shoot-outs on the ward, Thai wellness retreat disasters and heartfelt revelations about working for the NHS during the pandemic.

'Skeletons' is not a haphazard 60-minute assortment of gags. Like the best comedy shows, there’s an underlying theme, carefully planted recurring references, sub-plots and supporting characters, and then a satisfying conclusion. With its ER gallows humour and litany of tales from the trenches, this is a show for the first responders and front-line medical staff, but also for the rest of us.