Moscow State Circus: 2/10

I've just returned from the Moscow State Circus. It was performing at Alexandra Palace in North London. I had front-row seats, and was joined for the early evening entertainment by my girlfriend, and my eldest niece, aged 5, and nephew, 7, who were visiting from Israel.

We were one of the few. At least two-thirds of the £25-a-pop seats were empty. Maybe they were scared off by the price of sitting in an old-style big top; perhaps it was the Bank Holiday weather; maybe the prospect of a circus without animals or the inhuman contortions of Cirque-du-Soleil was just not a big enough pull.

I quite enjoyed it at first. The clown was amusing, skillful (and, most importantly, when you have kids in toe, unscary). The performers - aside from one hairy, pot-bellied chap - appeared able, their acrobatics impressive, and the petite, sequined blond alluring.

My niece and nephew were wowed by the magic - the old slice-the-woman-in-half-and-have-her-head-appear-in-another-box-trick - and the trapeze artists.

I was left a little perplexed by the use of Hava Nagila during one act, which reminded me a little of my bar mitzva. And the man who - wait for it - bounced balls to dazzle the crowed (up to, oh yes, five at a time!), reminded me of some kind of circus satire.

The piece-de-resistance was supposed to be the human canon. Cue a disembodied voice relating the history of the art-form, and extolling the virtues of Andrei something or other: "The last remaining human cannonball in Russia". The lights dimmed; the net laid out. And then.....nothing. He wasn't fired. The net disappeared. And he was never mentioned again. The finale ended with a bow and a scowl from the clearly-unhappy cast. There was no encore.

After the two hour show (minus a 20 minute intermission), I made the mistake of approaching the petite blond, who by now had changed into a sandwich-board bedecked in Russian dolls and other "authentic" knickknacks. I asked her what happened to the human cannonball. She shrugged desultorily: "I don't know," she said, her eyes narrowing in scorn.

We left the Big Top. My niece and nephew went to the toilets. Just as well they did there and then. Five minutes later, the portaloos were attached to a tractor heading for the main exit. Strange given that they're supposed to be performing in the same spot for the next five days. You have been warned.