The stage is decked out like a bohemian sitting room, all lampshades and pot plants. You'd expect someone wearing spectacles to come on and recite African tribe poetry, not five dancing boys unloading balloons on the crowd from binbags. Once plugged in, they start turning out cheerfully tip-tapping tunes that nick just as much from the 60s as from their old-school disco albums. With all the red trousers, face paint and intertwined fairy lights going on it's like being at a fancy dress picnic, only with less jam and more beats. They've got a teddy bear and a tiger though. Well done them.