The Victorian code of honour in Romany Gypsy circles is much like you’d think: an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, honour for honour or for Bendigo Barlow, our fictional bare knuckle boxer and elephant obsessive, a girl for a symbolic elephant.

Make sense? It mightn’t sound like it, but this sensory tale of bravery, of being pitted against the odds in an unlikely battle is a fine and sturdy subject, championing the power of the solo warrior against the Anti Hero pack. Made from the stuff of Bristolian legend, Barlow befriends gracious elephant Ina, absently staged on occasion with crafty bits from the stage, upon which he treks to the feet of his girl, to be refused her love and taken revenge upon. Barlow’s lifestyle involves much one-a-piece violence, whereby his victors soon reap the punishment of their assault by Barlow’s own fist.

The fictitious story is a (literal) bare knuckles fight to the finish line, yet this nimble tale is a beauteous thing to enjoy in the space of an hour, the storytelling a marvellous piece of fable with horrendous twists made palpable at the hands of Jack Johns, who is on stage alone bar a solo violinist. This is a tragic tour-de-force, a noble storyboarding of the everyday man, unfulfilled. There’s no redemption and the final moments aren’t light, yet you’ll leave this venue – one of the Vault’s most stunning, a classic theatre space in the unlikely tunnels below Waterloo – in awe of Barlow’s primal fight, a rare thing for actor Jack Johns to achieve from a tale so brutal.