Punchdrunk is a company in full command of the senses, but when the smoke thins and the queues form, the beauty of displaced ephemera turns vulgar and there is little else to latch onto than the city lights and beating rain back outside at street level.

Like Basho and Blake, Punchdrunk place you in the moment and on one level they seem to suggest that the moment is as good as it gets. But on another level they are story tellers out to tell a tale and that’s where the trouble starts.

The problem with environmental theatre is the theatre part. No matter how masked or distorted, the unities of time and place still apply. There is a beginning and an end and in between the audience will follow a narrative whether it’s provided or not. And despite their mastery of space and evocation, Punchdrunk have yet to grapple with the demands of narrative in all three pieces I’ve seen.

I left Tunnel 228 with some ecstatic impressions, it felt like an evening with the greats; I saw Jeff Wall there tonight, I saw Marcel Duchamp and Salvador Dali and I saw them through punch drunk eyes. Yes it was exciting, but like the birthday present: unwrapping is far more exhilarating than what lies beneath.

Speaking of which, I acknowledge that banging on about actively searching the internet for clues is a bit rich coming from someone who found out through the london paper and only managed to secure a slot through a well-connected friend on Twitter. I kept trying hard to get in even after the event was fully booked, and I’m counting that as the effort that makes me ‘deserving’!

I too shan’t give anything away and I look forward to the next one.

Firstly, I’m pleased I went on my own – it means you can totally immerse yourself in everything without outside influence or interruption. On the other hand, like you, I don’t want to give the game away because a huge part of the way I experienced the exhibition was the venturing into the unknown.

I was there for an hour and a half and I know I didn’t discover everything – one thing I found by accident when I had decided to leave. But it felt good to leave knowing that some stones had probably been left unturned – abandoning a realm of potentially infinite possibilities had its own thrill.

I’m so glad I got to experience it all – I’ve been buzzing with the experience all evening. Matt Trueman might deem me one of the lazy, undeserving lot for having found out via the londonpaper, but I only wanted to go because it suited my sense of adventure.

That said, there did seem to be a few people there (I stress “a few”) that didn’t seem to ‘get it’, but that doesn’t mean it was wrong for them to have been given the opportunity to try it. Some people there seemed to be huge Slinkachu fans and re-convened numerous times to take another tally of what they’d found.

My one cryptic droplet of information – delicious Turkish Delight.