Shiver me timbers and Roger the Turkish cabinboy!

Ah, young Can Bonomo and his ship of hope.

He’s off to an incongruent start, inviting you to hop onto his ship and he’ll make you fly. Oh really, Can? Is it an airship then? Does it have wings?

The would-be salty dog is doing his trademark shuffling and bouncing on stage, and risks making you travel sick before you’ve had a chance to find your sea legs. I’ve always thought that Can would tread a fine line between endearing and annoying and here he walks that line – or should it be a plank? – precariously.

I’m quite enjoying him – in fact I’d even go so far as to offer my services as his stevedore and help him unload some of his cargo – but I can see how many may not.

He got some strapping midshipmen behind him. Well, 4 strapping ones and one other who’s clearly there more for the vocal than the hornpipe. I fancy that Can may wring the last bit of patience out of his audience, much like I’m wringing the last nautical metaphor out of this review, and I think this could go either way.

It’s not Turkey’s finest moment, but I’m still quite fond of it. If it does get to the final though it’s likely to be their worst placing there for a decade.