Hello, Boys and Ghouls . . .

An exquisite creep-out, filled with stories that end with disobedient children bleeding or burning to death, the London export “Shockheaded Peter” acts as its own carny barker. Come one, come all. Enter our tawdry Victorian fairground of cautionary tales.

Now disorienting audiences nightly at UCLA’s Freud Playhouse, “Shockheaded Peter” is subtitled a “junk opera.” It premiered in London three years ago and then became a notorious hit. It has toured internationally, including an acclaimed stop in New York. After Los Angeles, it makes its merry way to San Francisco.

It’s an adaptation of “Der Struwwelpeter,” written in 1844 by Frankfurt asylum doctor Heinrich Hoffmann as a Christmas present for his 3-year-old son. In the original poems, whose illustrations (also by Hoffmann) inspired such 20th century creep-out artists as Edward Gorey and Tim Burton, the naughty children were punished but rarely killed off. On stage, they all die: Harriet, the girl who plays with matches; “Fidgety Phil”; Augustus, the boy who didn’t want to eat his soup; and all the rest.

The book is, to state the obvious, sick. It’s also very canny. Hoffmann sent up all the do-goodisms and treacle afflicting children’s literature of the time, jacking up the violence quotient to levels beyond the Brothers Grimm. The show honors the book while going its own way with about two hours’ worth of the original stories.

The show was created by the Cultural Industry, in association with West Yorkshire Playhouse and Lyric Theatre Hammersmith. It takes place on a deceptively cozy-looking Victorian stage, with wee footlights and many doors and windows, wonderfully designed by Julian Crouch and Graeme Gilmour.

Our host is a top-hatted ghoul (Julian Bleach) who announces himself as the “greatest actor that has ever existed.” Slipping in bits of Shakespeare when he can, losing his cheap toupee at unfortunate moments, he sets the show’s tone--kidding but intense.

Not found in the original, the show’s main story line involves a prosperous couple (Anthony Cairns and Tamzin Griffin, resembling white-faced human puppets) visited by the stork. The bird, a wonderfully seedy rod-puppet creation, brings them a son--but he’s an unsightly thing with long strange fingernails and a shock of wild hair. They bury the child beneath their floorboards.

More often than not, the characters of “Shockheaded Peter” transgress and then live only long enough to regret it. Co-directors Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch keep the dark wonders coming. When pyro-minded Harriet (Griffin) sets herself on fire, the red and orange fabric of her dress signifies the flames, along with wooden cutouts of flames jabbing up through the stage floor. Nothing fancy.

Much of the action’s relayed in song by composer Martyn Jacques, leader of the onstage hurdy-gurdy trio known as the Tiger Lilies. He sings in a piercing falsetto that has been described as Tom Waits on helium. Certainly Jacques’ nightmare-carnival aesthetic complements Waits’ lowlifes and con artists.

Three years into the run, Jacques isn’t putting a premium on diction or clarity. He’s an arresting presence--his jowly glares recall English music hall entertainer Harry Secombe--but you miss some of the narrative particulars. The overall impact’s diminished. But the band’s terrific: Jacques on accordion, Adrian Huge on percussion and Adrian Stout on bass.

To my taste, “Shockheaded Peter” is more effective in its truly scary moments--such as the appearance of the winged spider-creature--than the blatant spoofery. Bleach’s ham-actor folderol is funny, but there’s an awful lot of it. And there’s a rhythmic sameness to the stories, which I suppose is what you get, when so many of them end with phrases like “bleeds to death.”

Even so, this is a remarkable black-comic achievement, not meant for very young children. In the hilariously severe moral universe of Hoffmann, children will be children; they’ll fidget, and they’ll tra-la-la down the street with their heads in the clouds. And then they’ll pay.

On the show’s official Web site at https://www.shockheadedpeter.com, you’ll find a suggestion: “Those of a weak constitution, LEAVE!” Click on LEAVE! and you’ll be sent straight to the Teletubbies’ Web site. (Honestly.) “Shockheaded Peter” is living, cackling proof that the world is a large place indeed, if it’s able to comfortably accommodate both Tinky-Winky and Conrad, “the naughty little Suck-a-Thumb” who meets a bad end.

Oh, well. He should’ve listened to his mother.

*

* “Shockheaded Peter,” Freud Playhouse, Macgowan Hall, UCLA, Westwood (parking in UCLA Lot 3, enter on Hilgard, south of Sunset). Tuesdays-Fridays, 8 p.m.; Saturdays, 5 and 10 p.m.; Sundays, 8 p.m. Also 3 p.m. May 28. Ends May 28. $35 ($15 for UCLA students). (310) 825-2101. Running time: 1 hour, 50 minutes.

Julian Bleach, Anthony Cairns, Tamzin Griffin, Ewan Hunter, Rebakah Wild, Adrian Huge, Martyn Jacques, Adrian StoutEnsemble

Created by Julian Bleach, Anthony Cairns, Graeme Gilmour, Tamzin Griffin and Jo Pocock. Directed by Phelim McDermott and Julian Crouch. Scenic design by Julian Crouch and Graeme Gilmour. Costumes by Kevin Pollard. Lighting by Jon Linstrum. Musical director Martyn Jacques. Sound design by Mic Pool and Andy Brooks. Production stage manager Phil Eddolls.