La Clique

'La Clique' is the little show that roared. In the monetised world of popular entertainment, shows that start small and grow through word of mouth, talent and sheer late night drunken enthusiasm are rarer than ever. Five years since its debut on the Edinburgh Fringe, six months since it was the last show to play the London Hippodrome before demolition crews knocked it into a casino and one Olivier Award later, 'La Clique' is still a variety show to shout about.

As its raggle taggle bunch of burlesquers, strong men, rubber men and kinky artistes limber up for a double-pronged run at the Roundhouse and Theatre Bobino in Paris, they're hoping that even more people will join them to celebrate adult Christmas in the nu-old-fashioned way.

A hundred thousand Londoners came to see 'La Clique' at the Hippodrome last year. But producer Brett Haylock - a quietly intense Antipodean who's midwifed his many-headed prodigy from the spit and sawdust of the Famous Spiegeltent to increasingly glossy venues in Sydney, Paris and New York - is sure that there's still demand. The Roundhouse show has a new line-up, though old favourites like Mario: Queen of the Circus (a Spanish-accented Freddie Mercury with a lot of extra balls) will be there throughout the run. According to Haylock, sold-out shows doesn't mean 'La Clique' itself has sold out: 'We could have set up a dozen shows but we chose not to because we wanted to keep our integrity.'

So what's the secret of 'La Clique's success? Well, it's reinvented the variety show for one. The sad demise of that snazzy old hoofer of a venue, the Hippodrome, is bound up with the decline of variety shows for a mass audience. Popular culture in the form of variety and talent shows has largely been televised - in Saturday night favourites like 'The X Factor' - whose starlets transfer to West End shows but whose wince-and-shimmy formats do not. But 'La Clique', with its bowler-hatted and pinstriped ushers, its pies and pints and seats that range from raucous roped-in standing room to posh perches with table service, has found a new way of bringing different classes of entertainment seekers together.

Secondly, it combines the edginess of burlesque - which has too often failed to make the leap from living on its wits and tits in a cabaret bar to the big stage - with the character-driven appeal of theatre and the eye-watering skills of contemporary circus (the kind of shows that the Roundhouse, essentially a big top made out of stone, presents with flair).

Thirdly 'La Clique' has, thus far, had a cast of performers who make you like them even when they're making you cringe. Take Mario: Queen of the Circus, the flamboyantly Eurotrash juggler/Queen tribute act whose patter and character give him a central, compère role. In real life, like Superman, he's a softly spoken professional called Clarke. And he's eloquent on the importance of character to his act - something that was revealed by 'La Clique's' stint in Paris. 'I was dying onstage every night for the first week because of the language barrier. The audience was hearing Clarke, not Mario.'

Meeting the performers backstage at Theatre Bobino, it's impressive how involved they are with each other: watching each other's backs, critiquing each other's acts and even - during an impromptu try out of a 'Singing in the Rain'-inspired streetlamp pole dance by one of the acrobatic English Gents - leaping up to bolt down toppling equipment. As burlesque comedienne Miss Behave points out, the alternative family that the performers have found in 'La Clique' is one of the reasons for its broad appeal: 'Me and Frodo have been in freakshows before now. And when it's just freaky it's not so interesting and you don't feel so at home.'

Gateau Chocolat - an enormous baritone who is bringing his Lycra-clad act and his velvety voice (which definitely contains at least 80 per cent cocoa solids) to the Roundhouse next week - goes further. 'For me it's about reclaiming that whole freakshow thing. Here, if someone calls you a freak you take it as a compliment.' It's certainly true that hanging out with 'La Clique' makes you feel a bit freaky for being an un-double-jointed norm.

But they're great company, and some of their best new ideas come from after-show partying with the audience - the streetlamp act comes from a 'dishevelled' post-show night of pole dancing with Kate Moss and Stella McCartney: cliquey indeed. It remains to be seen whether the new gang at the Roundhouse will be as much fun as the old. But ' La Clique's success - achieved without the marketing machine of 'Cirque du Soleil' or any recognisable star or spin off - is good news for audiences everywhere.