Brainiac Live! is a ‘family science’ show based on a popular Sky TV programme. It’s ideal for children under 12 and for mums and dads who want an hour-long break from their normal parenting duties. The show is performed by a trio of lab-coated ‘brainiacs’, Ed, Ned and Raz, whose antics centre around loud bangs, naked flames, puffs of smoke and the destruction of props.

The fun kicks off with a helmeted Ned preparing to dive into a sheet of cling film stretched across an empty doorframe. He runs. He leaps. He plunges through the transparent barrier which rips apart as he crash-lands on to a discarded mattress. Is that science? Not really. It’s a low-level stunt performed in conditions of extreme safety. Ned repeats the experiment by leaping into a rectangular wobbleboard which duly disintegrates on impact. Finally, he throws himself at a sheet of rubber netting which pings him back to his starting point.

The next experiment begins with Brainiac Ed stripping down to a female swimming costume and performing a bump-and-grind routine. This seems a little inappropriate for schoolkids but perhaps they’re used to watching adult erotica during Drag Queen Story Hour. And the show contains far more knob gags than is strictly necessary.

For the three performers, this gig is a dream come true. They can improvise new lines if they lose their way in the script. And any mishap on stage becomes an opportunity to fool around and spark off extra excitement and chaos. The more damage they create, the more applause they get. No attempt is made to introduce the kids to the basics of chemistry by, for example, mentioning the periodic table or explaining the difference between a compound and an element. The goal is to stimulate curiosity rather than to share the rudiments of learning.

A few scientists are name-checked, including the actress Hedy Lamarr, whose work as a physicist helped to improve the performance of radio-guided torpedoes during the second world war. The performers gloss over her expertise in missile technology, which probably resulted in the loss of life, and instead they salute her contribution to the field of global positioning systems. The world’s greatest living scientist, Elon Musk, doesn’t merit a citation.

The highlight of the show is an office stunt popular with bored yuppies at merchant banks. Brainiac Ned straps himself into a swivel chair and grips a fire extinguisher in his hands to provide thrust. By releasing the fire extinguisher, he sends himself spinning in rapid circles for several minutes. He repeats the prank with two big sky rockets added to the propulsion unit. The rockets are lit, the gunpowder ignites and Ned twirls around like a Catherine wheel sending out plumes of fire and smoke. When he brings the chair to a halt, he stands up dizzily and collapses in a heap. Again, no scientific principles or lessons are alluded to.

This is an enjoyable circus show masquerading as a learning opportunity. The bangs are extremely loud so prepare to stick your fingers in your ears. You might be better off entrusting your children to the care of Granny and Grandpa. If they’re deaf already, they won’t notice the damage done to
their eardrums.

The goal is to stimulate curiosity rather than share a rudiment of learning

The Importance of Being Oscar is a one-man show written by Micheal Mac Liammoir and first presented in Dublin in 1960. Mac Liammoir was an Irish actor, born in London, who wanted to restore Wilde’s good name. The script is brilliantly performed by Alistair Whatley who stands on a dark stage accompanied by two hoops of pure white light. Angels’ halos, perhaps. The show delivers a thorough end-to-end biography of Wilde including many lesser-known details. In his youth, he wrote tasteful but erotically charged poetry to the actress Lily Langtry, whom he appears to have courted sincerely.

His later conviction and imprisonment were disasters that he might have easily avoided. He let himself become entangled in a long-standing family feud between his lover Bosie and Bosie’s erratic and violent father, the Marquess of Queensbury. At his trial, he treated the court like a West End theatre and improvised quips that won laughter from the gallery. Had he copied Nicola Sturgeon’s tactics and given dull, uninformative replies he might have saved his skin.

The passages from the trial prove how shockable the Victorians affected to be, at least in public. The lawyers shrank from using a word like ‘homosexuality’ and relied on euphemisms such as ‘unnatural’ or ‘impure love’. In that culture of evasion and secrecy, Wilde’s error was to declare his romantic nature in public and to expect that his talent and celebrity would protect him from censure. He wanted to be ‘out and proud’, as we say today. But he chose the wrong part of the wrong century to make his protest.