Those acquainted with John Waters’ numerous autobiographies will hear many familiar sounding anecdotes in This Filthy World.

But the pleasure comes from watching this immaculately attired, perfectly groomed, mellifluously foul-mouthed bad taste legend recount his bizarre career as director, gay icon, fashion guru and maximum security facility lecturer.

As a kid Waters kept a scrapbook of disasters caught on camera and later claimed someone vomiting in his movies is like receiving a standing ovation, so you know this eighty minute biography of bile ain’t gonna be pretty.

However, it’s predictably laugh-out-loud funny and surprisingly illuminating: Waters knows his film and art history as much as internet atrocity and eye-wateringly perverse sexual deviance.

It's been realistically awarded a 15 certificate, although teenagers will be baffled by William Castle and Visconti references rather than appalled by the eloquent scatology.

Time has caught up and bypassed the Prince of Puke, but for those who remember when nothing shocked like John Waters, This Filthy World is a time machine to a more innocent age.

Yet Waters still has the audience-friendly filth to remind you exactly who this is talking, and by the closing credits words such as “bears” and “blossoming” have lost their innocence.

Garlin wisely keeps the camera tight on his subject, paying scant lip-service to the appreciative NYC audience.

After all, this is a man who mines comedy gold by eavesdropping on pedestrians’ conversations, knows exactly how large falsies are allowed to be on movie posters in different US states and whose magnus awfulus Pink Flamingos is not getting an uncut UK release anytime soon.

Rob Daniel