Ethologists will tell you that genital display is a common form of communication in the animal kingdom; not only for reproduction, but to assert social status.

Male squirrel monkeys wield their erections in so called “penis duels”; macaque monkeys and guinea pigs withdraw their testicles into their bodies in submission displays; and as a hangover of our evolutionary origin, some men’s genital area, especially the scrotum, has a markedly darker hue.

The theory goes that our unique upright posture and front-facing genitals require that we have taboos around the naked penis to prevent sending incorrect messages to the more primitive regions of our brains that signal sexual enticement, aggression or intimidation.

So what happens when two adult male homosapiens take to the stage and overtly display their genitals for 70 minutes? Comedy, is the short answer. The response is automatic. We can’t help ourselves from laughing. Or if the show is in Amsterdam, where penises are par for the course, at least cracking a broad smile.

The two dicks (as it were) behind Puppetry of the Penis or “the ancient art of genital origami” are Australian jocks Simon Morley and David (Friendy) Friend.

Introducing the performance Morley tells the audience: “There are no strings and no puppets.” What follows is a carefully scripted and well thought through exhibition of male genital manipulation involving pulling and folding the penis, pinching and twisting the testicles and flapping and stretching the scrotum to create a variety of shapes. Women roar with laughter; the guys cross their legs in empathetic pain. The performers keep reassuring the audience that it doesn’t hurt, but my own cobblers were not convinced.

A television camera projects close-ups of their genital “installations” on to a giant screen. “Does wonders for the confidence,” quips Morley. The flattening effect of the lens does improve the mimicry. My favourites were the “turtle”, the “mollusc slowly emerging” and the “hungry chick in its nest”. By the time you get to the “sea anemone”, you’ve almost forgotten you’re looking at a cock.

As “purists” they try not to use props. They have about 60 tricks in their repertoire and perform about 45 of these a night. Some are clearly in the eye of the beholder. The “hairy tongue” and the “chicken nugget” nearly triggered my lesbian friend’s gag reflex. My other companion, a yoga teacher, smiled and nodded approvingly at the “wind surfer” which is quite a stretching exercise.

Originally conceived as an art calendar in 1997, the show debuted as a live performance at the 1998 Melbourne International Comedy Festival, then went on tour and really took off at the 2000 Edinburgh International Fringe Festival. A West End version in 2001 ratcheted it up to a fully multimedia entertainment with sound effects and lighting cues. They’ve now franchised and it has been performed in seven languages in 20 countries. “We also have guys who have regular day jobs but do hen parties. We’re global pimps,” says Morley laughing. South Africa is a new market opening according to Friend.

But, after the first few airings, Morley comments: “The women are reacting a lot different from everywhere else. Our installations usually get a riotous laugh. Here it’s a shy giggle.” Not quite on the night I saw the show.

Says Morley: “Dick tricking is not so uncommon in Australia. This is secret men’s business that comes from male sporting change rooms. We expected South Africa to have a similar sort of environment — good climate, lots of sport, you enjoy a drink too, but we haven’t found anyone who does them. I’m sure they do, it’s just a little more underground here.”

Friend agrees: “I did it as a kid in the bath. We all did.”

For the comedy to work, the show is premised on taboo.

According to Morley, when a Christian congregation in England moved for the show to be banned, the local bishop came to their rescue, saying there is nothing wicked about the human body.

“It’s a ridiculous piece of human anatomy — a couple of kiwi fruits hanging off, nothing pretty about it in its flaccid form,” says Morley. “It’s a piece of skin. Get over it.”

“The penis is a symbol of power, but we are actually ridiculing it,” says Friend.

True, no matter how powerful a man might be socially, in private you can crush him by laughing at his penis.

There is nothing lewd about what is essentially a vaudeville entertainment. It has even a sibling quality to it. Morley’s facial expressions especially resemble a naughty boy showing off.

Which is why I don’t understand the no-under-18 age restriction. It suggests something that isn’t there.

Personally, I think the penis puppeteers should consider doing school tours. Poking fun and demystifying the penis can do only good in such a sexually violent country as our own.

At the Baxter Theatre in Cape Town until September 28 and at the University of Johannesburg Arts Centre from September 30 to October 19