We have Johnny Rotten to thank for this. If the former Sex Pistol hadn't gone for his rumble in the Australian jungle in I'm a Celebrity, playwright Mike Packer would most likely not have come up with this rollicking look at an old punk band confronting today's degraded celebrity culture. Socking it to The Man is all very well but what price principles when £200,000 is on offer?

Back in the Seventies, the titular four-piece - Billy Abortion, Marc Faeces, Louise Gash and, er, John Smith - clung fleetingly to the ripped shirt-tails of fame. After a gruesome incident in a Copenhagen hotel room, the group split, never to speak again. But 30 years on, with Abortion working as a supermarket shelf-stacker, The Man has come calling.

An American company wants to use Plastic People, the ultimate anti-consumer anthem, to advertise a credit card. Awkwardly, all four band members have to consent to the project.

Packer, ably aided by director Tamara Harvey, keeps this whizzing along, with twist following turn in the great corporate sell-out. Such momentum almost disguises the fact that Packer wants to smash his microphone and still be heard at the back.

Yes, swapping your proudest creation for a branded T-shirt is pathetic but so is a late fortysomething railing against everything. Thus tHe dYsFUnCKshOnalZ! lurch from being heroes to figures of fun, before settling uneasily in the vacuum in the middle.

It doesn't help that there's a paint-by-numbers feel to individual back-stories, or that the grisly Danish episode is brushed off so lightly. The group as an individual entity is the most compelling character, especially during the high-octane musical interludes. The songs are more memorable than the offerings from many musicals and the actors are impressively nifty with their instruments.

Procter keeps Abortion's face contorted in an almost parodic snarl as he commits continual career suicide in front of a media desperate for more. Pearce Quigley is a delight as Smith, whose stunned-stoned stuttering lightens the circling gloom. A definite case of Never Mind the Glitches.

• Until 22 December. Information: 020 7610 4224, www.bushtheatre.co.uk.