“Beautiful thing logic, provided it’s not abused”: this seems a strange sentence to exist in a play that features people spontaneously metamorphosing into giant horned creatures. Yet it is an irony that seems cohesive as, right from the onset, Rhinoceros is illogically logical. So, shuffle into the cosy Owl and the Pussycat, perch yourself on a little wooden box and brace yourself for the imminent stampede.

Originally penned by Eugene Ionesco in 1959, the play is said to be inspired by the German occupation of France, and allegorical for the “collective psychosis” of uprising Nazism. Five Pound Theatre’s interpretation is directed by Jason Cavanagh, and features fellow Five Pound collaborators, Susannah Frith, Giuseppe Mauceri and Adrian Dean, plus an impressive ensemble of actors and acrobats.

An economical set folds around the outside of the room, which Cavanagh describes as “kind of like a large pop-up book”. Once audience members have expectantly taken their seats in the middle, characters soon converge onto the nebulous stage, and the frenetic performance begins.

Rhinoceros centres around the slightly hapless Berenger, who, after being denounced a drunken fool in the opening scene, harbours an increasingly confused expression as his friends and co-workers steadily succumb to the strange urge of transformation. A strong cast of supporting characters are featured: a rakish logician with slight Captain Jack Sparrow tendencies; a neurotically raving leftist; a lady hysterical about her dear cat being mauled by a rogue Rhinoceros.

The literal shaking, rattling and window pane-clattering that signifies incoming rhino attack, manages to evoke genuine terror, and will have you questioning the structural integrity of the somewhat charmingly dishevelled venue.

The rhinocerotic costumes seem to have been designed by someone with a slight steam punk fetish, featuring stylised gasmasks and swathes of green leather. After their respective transformations the beastly characters each seem to achieve an individual, yet also creepily uniform, set of birdlike movements. By the final scene their animalistic moans reach such a volume that it surely must disturb the window-washers on the Punt Road intersection.

The inclusion of takeaway coffee cups and multiple Apple products assumes that this is a decidedly contemporary rendition, however temporality and location stand back to accommodate Ionesco’s original exploration of the struggle between firm individualism and fear of isolation.

Don’t ignore the rhinocerotic facts: Rhinoceros is absurdly entertaining.