He Died with a Felafel in His Hand - Bits of Perth 2003 & 2013, Bits of Brisbane 2009-10 & 2013 and Hong Kong 2010 How to Be a Man 2011

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I did wonder, as I walked into the Fringe Club in downtown Hong Kong last week, how would they be able to do a play as Australian in tone and content as He Died With A Felafel in His Hand? But then the Felafel script is like a good recipe. You improvise with the ingredients to suit the time and season; giving it your own particular twist. But the composite of freaky foundation flavours always shines through; tried and tested, they're guaranteed to tingle the taste buds.

So it was with genuine excitement that I waited for this interpretation, the first off Australian shores in the better part of 10 years. I wasn't disappointed. The WAP Productions team, helmed by Wendy Herbert and Damien Barnes, put together a strong show that rocked the relatively tiny 80-seat Fringe Club theatre.

It helped that the cast and crew were by-and-large ex-pat Aussies, working as bankers, PR mavens and IT consultants in the Asian metropolis.

Secondly, Samuel J Craig was a fine young JB, the central character around whose brown couch the thunder rolls.

Craig was scruffy but charming, and reminded me a great deal of Brisbane actor Paul Denny, who played JB in the first Felafel production I ever saw at La Boite in 1999.

Craig told his adventures as if they were happening, retaining a skerrick of hope that the next house would be better; the dishes cleaner, the residents only half-insane.

Sadly he was to be constantly disappointed.

I enjoyed the differences between their characterisations – Mr Birmingham has certainly had many fine actors portraying him over the 15 years Felafel has been around.

The cast was 16 strong – but all claimed their moments on the stage, no matter how small.

Other standouts included Andrew Kirk as a particularly "woggy" Popov, the Latvian strip club enthusiast with a penchant for yelling "farken" after everything; Louisa Ward as Miss Waipukurau (the "guide" to everything sharehouse, melding a number of different characters); and Sam McMullan as a laconic Decoy.

Korean Keon Lee was hysterical in all of his roles, particularly as Rhino and grungy rock star Lizard Man.

The small cameo part of Veronica, a post-op transsexual belonged to Rye Bautista, aka La Chiquitta, one of the hottest female impersonators on the island. He was spectacular playing a woman playing a man playing a woman playing a.... well, now I'm confused, but Bautista has cheekbones to die for.

There were some great little touches: putting the pneumatic Sweden Milka in an Viking helmet; actually bringing out the infamous "Plastic Wendy" sex doll; and giving Serena a pole to dance around.

The stage choreography and direction could have been tighter and/or more dynamic in places (I'm thinking the Nina/Decoy/Lucinda scene); and it would have been good to see the smelly-trousered Milo fully-dacked (mind you, perhaps that would've been too much for the Hong Kong audience, particularly after I heard the older lady next to me asking her husband what a "snatch" was).

Audiences reacted well to the play's Australian sense of humour; even if they weren't fully across references to Lawrence Springborg, The Velvet Cigar and Swank magazine (although the joke about why they bothered leaving the "S" on the front transcends all cultural differences).

Local references went down a treat: dodgy businessman Eddy Groves became dodgy Hong Kong feng shui master Tony Chan. I didn't know who he was but the roar of laughter upon the utterance of that name assured me that the audience well and truly did.

And that's the thing about Felafel. If there's something you don't get, or don't like (the infamous coathanger moment attracted cries of "No!" and "That's disgusting!"), there's always something different just around the corner. Every taste is catered for – well, as long as you like things on the obscene end of the scale. Which I very much do.

It truly was exciting to sit in the dark as an audience member, watching this show I'm so familiar with done Hong Kong-style. Often I'd sit up straight, suddenly remembering an impending joke; other times, the lines would catch me by surprise. It was, overall, a glorious experience – in which I just had to sit back and let the filth wash over me.