When Karl Marx wrote that history repeats itself first as tragedy, second as farce, he clearly wasn’t taking dictation from the Dim Sum Dollies, who would no doubt have added ‘and third as cabaret’. Given that he was writing in 1852, we probably shouldn’t be too hard on the beardy anti-capitalist for not consulting Selena Tan, Emma Yong and Pam Oei (or indeed their foremothers) on the finer points of dolling up the past.

Then again, sequin-spangled imperialism, high-heeled entrepôt action and bouffant-haired struggles for merger and independence would likely take anyone who lived through Singapore’s first 150 years by surprise: this is history as reflected in a glitter ball.

Trivial? No doubt. In a phone interview snatched somewhere between rehearsing the beginning of the world and the end of Singapore’s flirtation with Malaysia, self-appointed Chief Dim Sum Dolly Selena Tan makes few claims to authenticity. ‘We’re making up our own stories,’ she says. ‘History provides the background.’ Funny? Most likely. The Dollies and elfin playmate Hossan Leong are among the most engaging, amusing stage performers in Singapore. Fresh? Here’s hoping. For if there’s a common complaint from Dollies regulars, it’s about too much of a good thing, with jokes, skits, even entire shows, outstaying their welcome.

So whereas previous cabaret shows like Steaming! (2003), Revenge of the Dim Sum Dollies (2004) and Singapore’s Most Wanted (2005) featured individual gems of pastiche and high camp strung out along the wispiest of through-lines, History – in the familiar forms of Sang Nila Utama, Raffles, bullock cart drivers, ah ma jies, Peranakan matriarchs, local politicians and so on – at least promises something for performers and audiences alike to get their teeth into. ‘It provides us with a loose storyline, and is very much about who we are,’ says Tan, ‘as well as raising audience expectations so they can relish it when, say, the Samsui women step out.’

History, in other words, allows the Dollies to do what they do best: nation building. That, in the view of this nonSingaporean, is what all the lampooning and satire and flummery add up to. After all, looking at the Merlion doesn’t seem to make people feel Singaporean – but laughing at Selena in a Merlion costume hacking into a spittoon does. States can be invented, but nations make themselves: as much through taking the piss (and getting the joke) as through singing the national anthem. Tan agrees. Asked whether it’s more Singaporean to love Singapore or laugh at it, without hesitation she chooses laughter.

So go. Watch the show. Laugh. It’s your national duty. Paul Rae