I walked out pleasantly surprised but for different reasons. It would be misleading to approach the show expecting some of the world’s finest comic talents.?? Instead, you’ll meet an assembly of talented – and bizarre – street performers, like a young man from a town called Penguin who learnt how to swallow swords over the internet (Is there anything you can’t learn over the web?).

The show’s linchpin is the seasoned comic and magician Nick Nickolas – think a slightly steadier Ozzy Osbourne plus magic – who, as the master of ceremonies, gives each performer their deserved rev up. Nickolas is a natural showman, as dry as sticks but undoubtedly beguiling.

The rest of the show is a bit of hit-and-miss. The best of the nine acts find a balance between tricks and quips, such as New Zealander Tony Roberts and Philadelphia lad Tim Motley. The others try but don’t stray too far from their comfort zones; that is, what most of us might find, excruciatingly uncomfortable (lifting beer kegs with one’s nipples, for example). While moments of head scratching marvel and stomach churning nausea do punctuate the show, the laughs rest firmly with Nickolas.

Coney Island Comedy has its fair share of potential. But if Coney Island Comedy is their goal, then more practice with the microphone instead of the juggling pins should be on the cards.

A mathematician by day, a frizzy haired revolutionary by night, Pampena’s enthusiasm must be admired. He kick starts the show with a bombastic song and dance, but within seconds the mystery behind the ‘How can maths be funny?’ question is all but revealed. Pampena’s stand-up adheres to a singular joke theory: a daggy affection for arithmetic. And that’s where the joke ends.

Helped by background diagrams and punctuated with evangelistic cries of ‘Maths!’, the show lurches eerily close to a mathematics class gone wrong. The trouble is, for such an unusual concept, the humour isn’t very original. Many of the jokes rely heavily on stereotypes and in doing so only really scratch the surface of their potential.

The maths itself is a major problem. While a scatter-shot of formula across the screen may make sense to someone of Pampena’s mathematical intellect, the average Joe is left staring at hieroglyphics. And by the time the formula and the joke come together, we have no choice but to take Pampena’s word for it.

That said, Pampena’s bold antics definitely rouse a chortle or two. His finale’an aerobic dance-a-thon through the entirety of Einstein’s E=mc?‚⧠formula’is just plain bizarre.

Unfortunately like algebra classes of old, The Mathematical Revolution leaves us a little vague, a little amused, but certainly with a sense of mind-boggling bewilderment.