Crikey. This is good. Skin A Cat is an aggressively honest, often hilarious, sometimes shocking look at sex. It chronicles Alana's journey from her first period through to her mid-twenties, taking in bad porn, needy boyfriends, friendly gynaecologists and a whole lot more, which to divulge would take away some of what gives this play its jackhammer impact.

Sometimes there is a play written that you have to take a moment with, to judge as theatrical perfection. This is Skin A Cat, with brilliant work from writer Isley Lynn. Bold, compelling and relevant, her script, with a note telling us this is "unashamedly autobiographical", feels profoundly of-the-moment. It is stingingly funny, with several moments that ring so true to my experience of growing up that it was unnerving. Sex is hard, and art, culture and society rarely reflect this. This central truth gives the writing its brilliance, with the production built around it enhancing its deeply human story. The direction is, for the most part, subtle, wisely centring proceedings around an imposing bed that inhabits much of the stage. This play deals with sex, but keeps these entanglements focused on the experience the central character is going through. Every choice feels made to enhance the telling of Alana's story.

As brazenly honest as Lynn's script is, it is enhanced by an outstanding Lydia Larson. Alana is brisk, unapproachable, warm, friendly, exposed, closed off; a series of juxtapositions as we all are and Larson is never less than fantastic here. It is a challenging role, and one could see it being mishandled, so it is a credit to Larson and director Blythe Stewart that they do such justice to Lynn's writing. The rest of the characters are taken on (in a gendered split fashion) by Libby Rodliffe and Joe Eyre, both accomplished performers. Rodliffe is exemplary as Alana's mother, out of her depth with the changes her daughter goes through, as well as a calming voice for the medical professionals who seek to help our protagonist. Joe Eyre manages to bring to life a series of questionable partners for Alana, his imposing figure making several of these exchanges particularly uncomfortable. Both Rodliffe and Eyre are adept at handling the comedic moments as well as the more dramatic ones.

Skin A Cat is as brutal as it is necessary, an 80 minute heart-breaking, life-affirming, nerve-shredding drama. I feel this play needs the widest, largest platform for audiences to see it, as it exposes a side of sex rarely portrayed. For Lynn's writing and Larson's performance, this a production you have to seek out. The play travels to the Edinburgh Fringe in a month and would be a deserved breakout hit there.