A group of five girls at a sleepover find the host’s mother’s box of objects which, they hope, contains some clues as to what ‘gender’ is. Finding a pink dummy, one says, ‘This is to shut you up from the moment you’re born’. There is, then, anger in this show, emerging from feminist, transgender and gay rights perspectives in each of the sketches. Not finding any further clues as to what ‘gender’ is, they then proceed to chant the word as a mantra while searching for it somewhere in the crowd.

It is more a collection of politically charged sketches than one extended play with a linear plot. As a result, the transitions can sometimes seem jarring between shockingly personal anecdotes to savagely ironic humour. It commences with an example of the latter, the five actors acting as five members of a Parent-Teacher Association attempting to tackle the rising tide of ‘lesbianism’ as if it were an infection. Yet this sense of irony is tempered with moments of beauty, such as the opening harmony singing – all coming together to form an all-round unusual experience of disparate yet fused elements.

Personal experiences form the backbone to the content of the play, with each member of the highly talented cast drawing on their own experiences of the issues portrayed to create a unique and unforgettable tapestry of the feminine experience. Each performance night is different from the last, with different stories in different forms making it – yet fundamentally, each night aims to create a similar picture; though different, always showing the notions of ‘gender’ in all their complexities.

So it becomes clear from the outset to the viewer (watching from within metres of the performance) that you will be watching a play with roots in satire. Yet also the play does not descend into purely becoming a comedy, the more emotive sections have left an indelible mark in my mind.Notably, they ask themselves (and ask the audience, reading the responses the audience wrote from the night before) ‘when was the last time you felt powerful?’

This simple question throws up so many of the issues regarding gender and sexuality that the play attempts to address. Many of the responses refer to odd, individual moments that appear to border on the mundane, others state simply that they do not recall the last time they felt powerful, or indeed, that they simply have never felt powerful. The pink dummy from the box comes to my mind when I imagine this – feeling trapped, and disempowered, by preconceived notions of what it means to be a woman.

Yet what this play attempts to show, through humour and deeply personal stories, is that the notion of empowerment is so intertwined with a self-definition of gender. It is a reminder of the adage that ‘one is not born, but rather becomes a woman’. And as such, I recommend those not lucky enough to see it at the Manchester Fringe, to see it at the Edinburgh Fringe if they can. It is an unmissable experience.

Last weekend, while the masses were at Latitude, I was at Truck Festival – a relatively small festival just outside Oxford, run by Truck Record. Truck’s first festival was in 1998, started by a bunch of teenagers with big dreams and a collectively overactive imagination. Tickets were £3. Since then, Truck has grown steadily, this year featuring the likes of Manic Street Preachers, Kodaline, and Catfish and the Bottlemen. Yet, somehow, despite the exponential rise in popularity and status, Truck has managed to maintain its raw and home-grown feel. Being there, I couldn’t help but think that in an age of mobile music streaming and Pokemon GO, festivals can be more of an exceptional experience than ever before. Away from the virtual and the digital, standing in a field at sunset, screaming lyrics into strangers’ eyes; the pounding of the bass eroding any difference in heartbeat between you.

However, this immersive vibe, simultaneously communal and deeply personal, is a far cry from the kind of event that commercial television would have you believe lies at the heart of a great festival. Spend no more than five minutes watching your average ITV-type channel and you’ll undoubtedly the festival is being bastardized for profit. As much as I’m sure this is a product of the commercialization of festivals themselves (you only have to look at most festivals bar prices to know what I’m talking about), this new on screen trend is contributing to it as a cause.

Take Boohoo’s ‘Festival Shop’ clothing collection, maximising on the festival season to add another ‘essential’ summer item to their online fashion store. Take L’Oréal’s latest ‘#FestivalReady’ advertising campaign, offering ‘Miss Hippie Mascara’ for one to, ironically, ‘stamp her individuality on festival beauty and stand out from the crowd’. The fashion and aesthetic they create may be intending to capture the spirit of freedom in festival life, but the commercialisation they force onto the self-proclaimed ‘alternative’ scene goes further than any antonym. Even in the freedom that is so inherent in the purpose of music festivals, the commercialisation surrounding them is in danger of slowly bringing about their degradation. If the festival experience has come down to being unable to take three steps from your tent without seeing a group of girls in identical crochet crop tops or matching ‘bohemian’ dresses , is it suprising that we pay extortionately for the ticket, for the camping, parking, merch, £5 for a box of chips and £2.50 for a bottle of water, without any indignation? Furthermore, as festival culture is absorbed into everyday consumerism – festivals lose their capacity to be springboards for new talented artists, musicians or filmmakers. It’s the established names that bring the crowds who shop for the commercially established aesthetic. Sure, a festival has to be profitable to be viable. Yet, the extent to which profit is becoming the point rather than a necessity threatens to turn the festival into a withered shell of its former self.

For me, this was the brilliance of Truck. No extortionate food prices: just an endless (and delicious) choice of local and independent food stalls and vans; locally sourced ingredients; family-run businesses charging their regular prices and all food profits, festival-wide, being donated to local charities. Drinks allowed into the arenas. Big name bands performing alongside Truck veterans Danny & the Champs and local up-and-coming Oxford artists like Esther Joy Lane, The Dreaming Spires and Pixel Fix. I couldn’t help but notice that there was no one paying more attention to their flower crown than they were to the stage in front of them. Truck was unfitting to the consumerist angle with its cafe/record store roots and its cross-age appeal, untouchable by the ‘Hippie look’ advertisers – and wholesome due to this.