THIS review isn’t so much written with one hand tied behind the back but a full set of Houdini straitjacket straps, belts and buckles.

To offer detail of what went on at the ultimate, complete, fin de siècle ending of the Still Game comedy experience is to spoil a series of surprises. This is not a standard stage play; it’s not question of dropping into the show and lifting a couple of good lines because that would require context. And context is detail. And detail is the rooftop sniper waiting to kill the fun for the 10,000 fans who will turn up to wallow in wonder at what Ford Kiernan and Greg Hemphill have come up with.

What was never going to happen was that Kiernan and Hemphill would come up with a linear two-hour standard stage play in which we follow the adventures of Jack, Victor, Isa, Boaby, Tam, Winston and Navid. The Still Game we’ve come to love on television is intimacy reliant; it’s a slice-of-life series that focuses on the ageing process, a half-hour existentialist crises featuring a main storyline and three sub plots. Each issue each character faces is a little earthquake; every cough heralds the arrival of cancer, every forgetfulness an indicator of memory loss. It’s about little people surviving in a huge, unforgiving world being attacked by time.

But the writers knew from having tackled the beast that is the Hydro twice before you can’t rely upon the comedy of tiny detail, the dry remark, the nervous puff on a pipe, the look between Isa and Navid that hints at more than a working knowledge of Domestos.

So what to offer Still Game 3? What K&H have opted to do is to look at the theatre forms which have influenced them over the years, bind them together and toss them in the direction of the audience, like a giant rock on a medieval catapult.

Without revealing detail, Still Game – the Final, begins with a front cloth act that’s pure variety, featuring characters regenerated from their Chewin’ The Fat series’. Worlds’ colliding? You bet. But it works. And as the variety continues, with dancing girls, theme songs, filmed inserts and cartoon action, your senses are assaulted, but not in a bad way at all.

Where’s the storyline? Well, it’s there too. We do find ourselves in The Clansman, the epicentre of J&V’s world. But wait a minute? Most of them died at the end of the last TV series, didn’t they? How do the writers address this? Here’s a hint. Think Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) or more the more recent sitcom endeavour, Ghosts.

But just as we assume we’ve landed back in safe, sitcom land, we rocket off again. Variety returns, bigger, brasher and louder than before, with more dancing girls, elaborate sets and rockets going off and . . . wait a minute; are we in Heaven? We’ve wandered into It’s A Wonderful Life territory now. We’re looking at the consequences of life. We’re weighing up crime and punishment. Are we in Hell?

The writers don’t miss an opportunity for big set pieces, which then compress to become small two-handers, each designed to confound expectations and create huge laughs.

I know. You want more detail. But I can’t offer it. F&G will take up rifle positions and my head will be the target. And the fun can’t be spoiled. But all I can say is there is a God (and not because the supreme deity has allowed for the comedy duo to run for another incredible 15 nights.) It’s not God as you would imagine but it fits perfectly well into a variety show resplendent with character sketches, songs, madness and more component parts that a Meccano set for teenagers.

Is this truly the end to our adventures with Jack and Victor and co?’ Yes. You may see a spin-off series featuring Craiglang’s resident gabsh***, you may see Still Game emerge as a theatre experience fronted by two actors who are not Ford Kiernan and Greg Hemphill. But catch this final show because you will never, ever see the like of this again.