I’ll admit it. I had initially written the Rob Madge-centric show off. I thought it was going to be awfully trite, a little self-indulgent and potentially hollow.

It turns out that I’m incredibly grateful to have attended the last ever, at least that’s what’s been said at the moment, performance of My Son’s a Queer (But What Can You Do?).

Though, I’m not sure this show can be thrown into a drawer and left alone for too long, because this is actually important viewing for parents at any point on their journey towards having a child in their lives. But then again, if the piece becomes synonymous with those sentiments, it rather changes the thing completely. This isn’t a parenting manual or a lesson in how to raise a queer child. It’s a celebration of what happened when one child was simply given the space, encouragement and love to be themself.

Let’s be honest, bringing a child into the world can be a terrifying prospect. There is so much to worry about, so much you cannot predict and so much you cannot protect them from. Who they grow up to be should never be one of those fears.

The first thing to note is Madge’s ability to laugh at themself. I had wrongly expected the piece would be a deadly serious, this is me, this is what happened and that’s it experience. Instead, Madge is a most gracious host as they take us through the seven steps to putting on your own Disney parade, having failed to deliver one as they’d have liked at home in their younger years.

The piece is ferociously funny, heartwarming and poignant without being remotely preachy or shouty, and it could have so easily been the latter.

Footage, school reports, Madge’s career and their retrospective comments on those experiences merge to create something so simple, yet so effective and utterly captivating. You’re really rooting for Madge, for who they are now and for what they have to give to the world as a result.

Backed up with footage from Madge’s youth, I found myself resonating with so much of the home-grown, full-scale theatrical productions in their lounge. My own childhood was filled with similar encouragement, although that support disappeared following the death of my adoptive mum when I was younger. Watching Madge’s family embrace the things that made them different therefore landed rather closer to home than I had expected.

I won’t call it closure, but this show brought me very close to my own experiences and those were tears. Genuine tears as a result of this, but also at how moving it is to see Madge surrounded by such compassion and sincerity at times when they didn’t quite fit into the prescribed world of childhood and their young adult years.

Madge’s energy, theatricality and storytelling are second to none. You can really feel the genuine earnestness and passion radiating warmth around the auditorium, and whilst the show absolutely screams fringe and shoestring budget, it fills the stage with light, laughter and love.

It’s just a lovely piece of theatre at a time when everyone and everything wants to scream at you about how crap the world is. In this piece, humanity matters, compassion counts, and we should really just uplift, empower and inspire one another. Just in fewer words, and with much more Disney.

I am genuinely grateful I bought the ticket. After what has been an awful week, there was something restorative about spending an evening with a piece of theatre so determined to find joy in people rather than despair at the world.

There’s also a firm reminder to parents that letting your child be is the best way to bring them up.

Be there for them. Catch them when they fall and, if you can’t, make sure you’re there for the rebuild.

Always, always embrace the things that make them happy, because it could well be the thing that makes them a star.