AS with the first time I saw them on TV in 1999, I don’t really know what I’ve watched. It came from nowhere.Who knew how significant this team would become?

Reece Shearsmith, Mark Gatiss and Steve Pemberton are like three apexes of an equilateral triangle, each there to push and bring the best out of the other, never vying to be Diana Ross in this supreme trio.

The first half felt like an intimate Edinburgh Fringe sketch show with all three in black tie as we were left to provide costumes and make-up; each played Northern women expertly, not as men in drag, but with warmth and beautifully well observed. The second half, in contrast, featured all of the League Of Gentlemen characters in costume and with full production with stunning effect.

Incestuous serial killer shopkeepers Tubs and Edward came on to rapturous applause. To someone unaware of their work, that sentence may question so much about the performers and the audience! Even their most vile characters, somehow, have a charm.

In a world of derivatives, we must champion such daring originality that challenges every extreme of prejudice and ignorance and highlights the underachiever whose dreams remain unfulfilled. We need to welcome the extraordinary or the world will be ordinary.

This is not light entertainment; it's heavier, darker and laden with emotion. Unafraid to offend, it is comedy without ceiling or basement; nothing is off limits. The more dangerous the better. The only thing censored from their creativity is censorship.

The show broke hearts and turned stomachs in equal measure as the breezeblock Barbican was transformed into a Victorian theatre with limelight stage lights and plush red curtains. Was this a night of theatre? A musical? Comedy? Double entendres? Thriller? Slapstick? Poignant monologues? Yes to all those, and to weave them together to create something so breathtaking highlights that these gentlemen are in a league of their own.