PART bubbling nonsense tale, part Bacchic song-and-tango celebration, it is easy to imagine Michael Scott and Brian Thunder's "dance/theatre", The Yellow Man, being offered after tea in Edith Sitwell's drawing room on a Sunday afternoon. Instead, the setting for this florid, 40-minute diversion is, rather unexpectedly, the concrete basement of the RHA Gallagher Gallery.

On a specially constructed tiny stage, decked" out with miniature proscenium and rippling deep red curtain, Scott directs what is akin to a real-life cartoon strip, something along the lines of Ennio Marchetto's trompe l'oeil antics.

Taking as its starting point Bewick's character, The Yellow Man who can also be seen in a myriad of guises in the artist's exhibition upstairs - the plot remains consciously slender. Our mustard coloured hero, played by Thunder, dressed in thickly padded costume, decorated with a pointy yellow appendage, leaves the idyllic vineyards and olive groves of Tuscany to seek love in the big city, only to return home just as abruptly.

Props are brashly coloured cardboard cut-outs, inventively designed to achieve maximum absurdity through minimal means, and the performances follow suit. Karen Ardiff puts lustre into her roles as narrator and tango-dancing object of our yellow hero's affection, inhabiting the slender drama with disarming gusto, while Thunder as the Yellow Man, and Aidan Conway in all the other parts, keep the strokes bold and the gestures saucy.