They’re back and playing to an even more packed theatre than The Apollo Theatre enjoyed pre-lockdown. I know as I was there on that occasion too.
It’s little wonder this new show has proved so popular, for several reasons:
Operation Ouch! is one of CBBC’s most popular shows.
Children don’t understand or care about social distancing, Covid etc. so coming to the live show is no big deal.
Children love talking and laughing about poo.
Twin brothers, and Doctors Xand and Chris know exactly how to engage with their young audiences.
The 70-minute show features multiple Gross Alerts!
Mix that lot together and you’ve filled the stalls and all three circles. It didn’t even matter that at the press performance the stage appeared to lose its power supply just when it needed it – meaning the two doctors had to improvise until the electricity supply returned and their endoscope was ready to display the inner workings of the bearded Doctor Xand, live.
And live it certainly was. Dressed in blue (Doctor Chris who tries to take the more serious approach) and green (Doctor Xand who tends to mess about whenever the chance arises) scrubs, the identical twin brothers have obviously decided to throw caution to the wind and ignore any potential embarrassment to the point where each of the doctors displayed a photo of the other enjoying some potty time as a toddler. The subject of the new show is the quest for the golden poo – and you can guess what such a challenge might entail… explaining what poo is and how it forms in the body. What’s not to like!
At one point Doctor Chris is even tricked into drinking from flask 1 or flask 2. One contains stew, the other diarrhoea. See the photo below for which one he chose. Operation Ouch! on CBBC features ‘Gross Alerts’ whenever most people may wish to look away. Of course, these notifications simply make an children move even closer to the screen. Well the same applies in the live show; you just need to substitute ‘closer to the screen’ with ‘closer to the edge of their seats’. All while any brave adults, still looking, screw their faces up in disgust.
But the show isn’t without its educational side. To that end, both children and adults alike came out knowing more that they did upon arrival to Shaftesbury Avenue’s Lyric Theatre, especially how the different areas of the brain work.
It’s hilarious, it’s gross, it’s brilliant. Apart from the impromptu power-cut it’s almost perfect. To be eight again! Mini Sardines loved it which is always a good sign. Another good sign is how quickly the time flew by. Seventy minutes appeared to pass in the blink of an eye.
Usually listed – by people who feel the need to categorise – rather uneasily as a comedy, Measure for Measure is actually a pretty serious play although it descends close to farce in Acts 4 and 5 which is why the compulsive categorisers call it a ‘problem play’.
Blanche McIntyre’s 1970s take on it plays it for laughs. Her cast of eight (there’s some very accomplished doubling) squeeze every possible innuendo and comic reaction from the text which is adeptly cut with the addition of a line here and there or a changed word so make sure the story telling is as clear as it could be.
Sometimes the laughter, however, seems inappropriate. This play is at heart about the attempt of political leader to use his power seduce a young girl while at the same time ruthlessly condemning (to death) others who ‘fornicate’. There’s nothing funny about that. The hypocrisy rings hideously, topically true. And there are some horribly familiar attitudes, “See that she has needful but not lavish means” says Angelo, coldly, of the heavily pregnant Juliet reminding me, on this occasion of many people’s attitudes to cold, wet migrants on beaches.
So, although this production is beautifully staged and the acting outstanding there are still problems in the play which are not addressed.
Hattie Ladbury makes a good unambiguously female Duke. Tall and cadaverous in appearance, intense and unsmiling she manipulates other people like a puppet master although it is, as ever, a puzzle why she puts Angelo in charge thereby putting the welfare of so many people at risk given what she knows of his background.
Georgia Landers’s Isabella is warmly righteous and fluent in her pleas for her brother’s life but she doesn’t quite bring out the unconscious eroticism of her lines and it’s hard to see quite why Angelo suddenly feels he must have her virginity.
In a strong cast Eloise Secker stands out as Pompey, flirting with the audience with insouciant insolence. She gives him a sense of undaunted wisdom which doesn’t always come through. Secker also gives us a wan, wistful Mariana looking like a young Diana, Princess of Wales – all blonde bob and hurt. And at the end she is forcibly married to a man who clearly doesn’t want her. Secker does the troubled mixed feelings well.
There’s a good performance from Gyuri Sarossy as Lucio too, a man too garrulous for his own good. Sarrossy watches, reacts and times his interjections totally convincingly. He also conveys Lucio’s friendship with Claudio and the contrasting coldness to Pompey effectively. It’s a gift of a part and Sarossy really runs with it.
I’m unsure about the comedy of the executioner struggling on with an axe as if we were in The Mikado or producing Raguzine’s head dripping with blood or various other moments contrived to make us laugh. An innocent man’s life is quite seriously at risk (“Be absolute for death”) and we shouldn’t be allowed to forget that.
All in all, though, it’s an entertaining evening but this account of the play but – and maybe that’s the essence of theatre – it asks more questions than it answers. I liked, though, the ending, in which ambiguity, incongruity and indecision is built into the text. Both Ladbury and Landers drive that home with eloquent facial expression.
The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse setting is exquisite, smaller than some pub theatres, and candle-lit – with the (mostly masked) audience packed in like sardines in an authentically Elizabethan/Jacobean way. They wanted vaccination status at the entrance. Otherwise it was a case of “Covid be damned” just as the first audience would, I suppose, have regarded the plague. I was puzzled by three groups of people separately walking out in the first half, though. Did they not like the play, the production, the crowding or the backless benches?
Putting on any school production is a major task, and to do so involving an enormous cast, a full orchestra and to a high standard is a great achievement. Well done, then, to Director Chris Chambers and all the team behind the Trinity School production of Shrek the Musical. It helped, of course, that the school has a well-equipped and comfortable concert hall with a large stage, but none of that would have been enough without a talented cast.
With a cast of around 60 and a large orchestra, it is impossible to mention more than a few names. In the lead role, Ethan Thorne (alternating with Barney Sayburn) has a relaxed approach that suits the character (though saddled with a rather misshapen fat suit) and a Scots accent that is probably better than that adopted by Mike Myers in the original film. Opposite him as Fiona is Eliza Farrar (alternating with Anna Brovko), who has a sweet singing voice and copes well with the choreography. The double-casting of these two main roles was just one example of the thought put into this production by a school that is well used to performances of all kinds.
As Donkey (no alternate so I hope he keeps well) is Ashvin Jeyanandhan, in a portrayal which was all the more impressive for not attempting to copy the original. He is a confident performer with great stage presence, knows how to sell a song, and gave every sign of enjoying the role, which always helps. The other key role is that of Lord Farquaad, to which Matteo Di Lorenzo brought a nicely understated approach and great attention to detail, as well as some of the best costumes of the evening.
Around these three key performers were a vast number of young people of all ages in parts large and small. Among those who caught the eye early on was Lucy Pritchard as Young Fiona. She totally owned the stage, especially when she sang, and already has the skill to put a song over with verve, vigour and clarity. Also making the most of his chance to sing was Jonah Newlands as Pinocchio, who was not afraid to command the stage. George Nearn Stuart is an excellent dancer as the Pied Piper, although the chorus behind him looked rather less comfortable in their tap shoes. Phoebe Nichols as Gingy has a great blues voice, and Tweedledum and Tweedledee (Robert Green and Kiaro King) had little to do but did it with style and energy.
If there was a prize for getting the most audience attention from the smallest part, it would undoubtedly be won by Alexander Molony as the more than slightly tipsy Bishop; a lovely portrayal that was kept up even when his moment was over, staying (just) the right side of upstaging everyone else. The whole cast were colourfully costumed and this, together with wigs, was a real strength of the production. Lighting and FX too contributed greatly, and it was good to see school students in backstage roles as well as in the cast.
Leaving the orchestra under Musical Director Ralph Barlow till last seems appropriate since the music is a vital part of a show like Shrek, and of course Trinity has a musical reputation that raised expectations. These were more than met since this was a superb orchestra, almost all the players being students, as disciplined as they were talented. They were the core of the show, and the cast gave it the necessary heart: well done to all concerned. A great achievement.
The retiring collection was in aid of the school’s Malawi Project Christmas Appeal.
I felt quite moved when I arrived at Frank Matcham’s stunningly beautiful Hackney Empire and saw the Jack and the Beanstalk screen. This was the first pantomime I’ve seen for two long years.
I think a lot of the audience felt like that too because there was a lot of excited whooping and a sense of excited relief.
In the event, once this decent, reliable panto got underway it felt as it we’d all been there yesterday – the comfort of the very familiar. Yes, they do The Twelve Days of Christmas (“and a bra that was made to hold three”) at a accelerating speed with several upward key changes, combine it with the slosh scene (“five custard pies”) and there’s splendid work from Mark Dickman’s fine five-piece band underneath it. Yes, we get a (very abbreviated) ghost scene and all the usual “oh yes you will” stuff as well as the obligatory sing along at the end so they can prepare the set and costume up for the finale.
But a successful panto needs some fresh material too. The ensemble cockroach number – a very slick tap dance – in the giant’s castle ticked lots of boxes for me as did the rescued harpist (Victoria Anderson) singing “An die Musik”. Bit of Schubert as a change from the running Queen gag with Tony Whittle doing an ongoing Freddie Mercury impression? Why not? – you can do anything in a panto which is one of the genre’s USPs.
Clive Rowe (who also co-directs with Tony Whittle) has been associated with the Hackney Empire panto for so long that he gets a round of applause as soon as he appears. He just has to stand still, flutter his eyelashes and show the retail bags (“Marks and Dentures”, “Dreggs” and the like) that his first costume is made of. He goes on, of course, to give the competent, practised performance that you’d expect.
Rochelle Sherona is interesting as Jack. None of the traditional thigh-slapping principal boy for her. Instead, in dungarees, she finds a sort of feisty vulnerability – and realisitic gender ambiguity – in the character. And, Urdang- trained, she dances beautifully which is unusual for someone in this role.
Kat B as Simple Simon grated on me at the start – too much anguished “pity me” and pathetic fall guy with a whining voice. But gradually he grew on me and he’s certainly an accomplished, slick performer who works well with others.
It’s a generally enjoyable evening and the little girl (maybe 9) next to me was clearly having a good time. At that age you don’t notice the cheap sets, the post pandemic reduction in production values, the lacklustre (silicone?) giant or that Clive Rowe has to put on a face shield to come down into the audience. It’s simply good to be there.
Chickenshed doesn’t believe in doing things by halves. A cast of 800 young people – yes, 800 (but not all at once) – and 23 adults demonstrate, yet again, just what this famously diverse, inclusive theatre company can do, even when their work has been pandemic-curtailed for much of this year.
This show which owes a tiny conceptual debt to Sondheim’s Into the Woods, is a reworking of a show which Chickenshed staged in 2006 and it does exactly what its strapline promises. It mixes up fairy tales with lots of song, spectacle and flair.
At the heart of it we have the brothers Grimm and one of them (Lauren Cambridge) is female. Cue for witty, topical comments about gender constructs and patriarchal assumptions. They are trying to write stories, and the dynamic between them is quite fun, but their characters keep escaping. The overarching narrative is Hansel and Gretel who are lost so their father (Ashley Driver) is on a quest to find them despite the machinations of, for example, Rumpelstiltskin (Michael Bossise) and the Queen (Gemilla Shamruk) mother of the dancing princesses.
Bossise is statuesque, astonishingly adept on his stilts and has a magnificent basso profundo singing voice. He also has a good line in sounding very plausible when of course his character is up to no good at all. Bethany Hamlin as Hansel and Gretel’s stepmother/witch has oodles of stage presence – lots of flounce and venom – and she sings beautifully.
I really like the idea of pairing BSL signers – who are often accomplished acrobats, singers and actors in their own right – to characters so they seem like an alter ego. Demar Lambert, for instance, “represents” Rumpelstiltskin and adds another whole layer to the character. I don’t remember this being quite so overt in previous Chickenshed shows so maybe this is the handprint of Belinda McGuirk, directing for the first time.
Another Chickenshed trademark is to give short single verse solos to lots of children – as well as the adult big numbers – so we see a lot of talent and teamwork as the show proceeds.
The 23 adults – 12 staff members and 11 students or trainees – are in every performance. The children work in four rotas and I saw the Green Rota in action. And the best moments in this show are when the stage fills up with them, immaculate, dynamic choreography (by a team) ensuring that they form groups, shapes and rhythms like a professional army. Some of the children have special needs of various sorts and it’s a lump-in-the-throat joy to see the slick way they are involved, supported and fully included. Even the curtain call is a work of art with over two hundred people on stage – and I’m told that back stage discipline, always good, is now calmer and better organised than ever because there’s a one way system which everyone adheres to. Professionalism at its best.
What better way to spend a December evening than by being transported to the sunny French Riviera? If another show sees life as a cabaret, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels takes a gambling casino as its setting and a metaphor for the shady, if entertaining, world it depicts. On entering the Bridewell Theatre’s performance area with its black drapes and gaming tables, no sooner have you parted with your coins for a programme than, and, as the band tunes up, croupiers ply you with chips and draw you into their world.
And oh boy, what a band it is! In preparation for the show, I’d played the original American cast recording and, for just a moment, wondered if I was hearing that orchestral track. Chris Nelson’s baton inspires his fifteen-strong band to bring out all the pep and buzz of the original orchestrations in David Yazbek’s delicious score, and the bubbly company follows suit. The production is as musically sound as any big musical in the West End.
The piece itself breaks no new ground. In fact, it’s almost a throwback to the light-hearted musical comedies of the ‘twenties and ‘thirties but, as the recent success of the Anything Goes revival showed us, is just what the doctor ordered for the dismal times we’re living through. There’s even a haunting love ballad, Nothing is Too Wonderful – albeit spoofed – and some wise-cracking numbers which could have been penned by Cole Porter.
Lawrence holds sway as the resident conman in the resort. When he meets another scoundrel, Freddy, on a train he first tries to help him, then makes use of him before deciding there isn’t room for them both in town and challenges him to a gamble. Whoever manages to successfully swindle a woman out of $50,000 can stay. Whoever loses must leave.
Gangsters and other lowlife are, of course, stock characters in musical comedy and, once again, we’re in lovable rogue territory here. In her excellent Director’s Notes, Zoë Thomas-Webb suggests that even ephemeral light-hearted musicals may cause an audience to reflect on aspects of the human condition. If this one has a weakness, whilst entertaining, it doesn’t risk, as the The Producers succeeds in doing, tottering on the knife-edge of outrageous bad taste. Yet the sheer simplicity of her production, in which a couple of chairs can become a railway carriage at the twisting of a couple of waiter’s arms, ensures everything moves deftly and keeps us involved.
To be honest, I’d found the charm of the 1988 film resistible, and even this musical version, first served to us in London in 2014 didn’t totally engage me. But as sometimes happens, a fringe venue and company can bring a special magic, even warmth to the proceedings which, in this case, makes the reprobates more endearing. The production is pure joy from start to finish!
The principal conmen, Rob Archibald as the urbane Lawrence and Joey Henshaw, the socially inept Freddy, are well contrasted and make a fine double act. Archibald brings vocal versatility to the various persona required by his role, his transformation into a Viennese doctor being particularly hilarious, whilst Henshaw’s clumsy teddy bear antics are equally delightful. This is comic playing of a high order. They get good support from: Imogen Johnson as the Soap Queen who isn’t quite who they, and we, are led to believe she is; Louise Roberts as an American socialite and potential victim of the pair (her coupdethéâtre at the end (no spoiler!) is brilliant); and Dan Saunders as Andre the corrupt but charming Head of Police in league with Lawrence.
Jen Bullock also shines as Jolene a wealthy young woman, who manipulates herself into becoming temporarily engaged to Lawrence and performs a riveting speciality dance with the ensemble, extolling the dubious virtues of her home state.
Jonathon Grant and Fiona McConachie have choreographed the show superbly and in numbers such as the latter (Oklahoma!) make full use of the deep stage area, not to mention large pink Stetsons – even if, sometimes, the dancing could be sharper.
I was puzzled – and distracted – by a cast/audience member mysteriously planted at one of the tables. Was this a Brechtian alienation device or had another critic been given a ringside seat? I could also have done with better diction from some cast members who spoke and sang a tad too fast for mature ears. Admittedly, many of the songs have quick tempos, but Yazbek’s clever lyrics and Jeffrey Lane’s witty lines are too good to miss.
No matter, it was terrific to be back once again with an enthusiastic young cast and audience at The Bridewell and be reassured that Sedos, despite the problems of the past twenty-odd months, hasn’t let its very high standards slip. The two-and-a half hours sped by in a delightful whirl of mirth, movement and melody.
So what happens if you give Juliet’s lines to Romeo and his to her thus making her a Montague and him a Capulet? You get a topical, thoughtful take on the play which really makes you stop and think about why, even today, we often expect females to be more passive than males. You are also forced to reflect on the whole nature of loyalty, violence, knife crime and much more. This interpretation, set in London in 2021 (a positive Covid test becomes part of the plot) and couched in Intermission’s trade mark seamless blend of street speak and Shakespeare, is effectively a powerful commentary on the play as we know it.
Juliet, for example, is in the garden – feisty and very interested – while Romeo, more diffidently, is on the balcony. It is Juliet who is banished at the end (“Your Uber’s waiting”) while Romeo’s sister, Capo, is keen get him on an aircraft and away to film school because that’s what he’s always wanted to do and she wants him out of the way. Then of course it’s Romeo who lies dead when Juliet returns – and the ending isn’t quite what Shakespeare gives us but I was deeply moved especially by the searing anguish of Megan Samuel as Capo.
One of the most startlingly effective ideas in this vibrant production is the chorus. Rather more Greek than Shakespearean a group of eight actors is threaded amongst the action watching, commenting, interjecting usually in very short burst of the original text. They act as an inner voice for characters on stage as well as making observations. It’s tight, neat and impressively synchronised. Asked in the post show question and answer session how they’d achieved it, one of them answered, chuckling: “With a lot of practice!” I also liked the way we get Friar and Lawrence, a pair who run a tattoo parlour as a cover for an illicit drugs business.
The twenty six members of the company role share so that, although they’re all involved there are two cast lists. I saw the Juliet Cast which gave us Ophelia J Wisdom as Juliet and, my goodness how she develops the character in the “two hours traffic of our stage”. She starts as an everyday teenager and ends as a mature woman. It’s a very convincing performance.
Intermission Youth Theatre works with young people from across London who are helped to find a pathway away from risk or danger of various sorts through drama. Improvisations facilitate devising which Darren Raymond eventually converts into a script. The standard of work they produce is remarkable especially, this time, given the restrictions imposed by the pandemic.
Having waited over a year to see Moira Buffini’s new play there was a real buzz in the audience. Lez Botherston’s incredible set, with its precipitous staircase, random suits of armour and amazing tilted windows and the endlessly threatening projections that role across the cyc, creating a constant sense of foreboding, lead the audience to believe that great things are to come.
The sprawling plot begins with a wrangling couple and a dead body, which sounds like the opening of an Agatha Christie play. They are interrupted by a series of arbitrary visitors, who become trapped in an old manor house while a storm rages outside. The dead body goes missing – which still sounds like an Agatha Christie play I hear you say. As each new arrival makes their entrance we are treated to a series of conversations and duologues that reveal the individual needs and desires of this disparate group of characters, who have been accidentally thrown together. Hmm – still sounding like an Agatha Christie play!
As with all such plays there are some characters we warm to and others we dislike and during the course of two and half hours our allegiances shift and change. However, this group of itinerant refugees from the storm all carry a label. Ted, the compelling leader of Albion, a far-right group, his blind (in all senses of the word) girlfriend Ruth, Anton, a young offender groomed whilst in prison and hopelessly loyal to Ted, Ripley, the black A & E nurse training to be a doctor and Isadora, her sulky teenage daughter on a weekend mini-break from south London, Fiske, a liberal gay vicar, Perry, an overweight, lonely young man living in a caravan – and herein lies the problem with this play. In Manor, Buffini has seemingly tried to address all modern issues at once. There is a light touch given to so many serious issues: climate change, racism, fascism, class, domestic abuse, homosexual clergymen, lesbian relationships all rear their head, but by the end you feel that no single topic has been tackled comprehensively. Cold calculating, unscrupulous characters, such as Ted Farrier, the leader of ‘Albion’, show their true colours, but seem to receive their comeuppance far too easily. If only dealing with these issues was so simple.
Despite this there are some strong performances. Shaun Evans is excellent as Ted Farrier, showing all too easily how a svengali influence can lead to women denying abusive behaviour, young men agreeing to acts of terrorism and vulnerable loners being manipulated. Michele Austin, as Ripley, also gives a sterling performance. A calm voice of someone who knows her place in the world and stands up to bullies. However, the characters swing somewhere between naturalism and caricature, fading rock stars and angst-ridden teenagers, all being given their moment to make a statement; these characters are more symbolic than real.
There are some great moments of humour, some seriously black comedy, but as a whole the play itself is disappointingly flawed.
Rumi: The Musical began life as a concept recording. Its creators, Dana Al Fardan and Nadim Naaman, began their journey towards the end of 2019, with the final album being released in June 2021, so this truly was a pandemic project.
Showing for two nights only at the London Coliseum for its world premiere, the musical depicts a snapshot of the life of 13th Century Turkish mystic, philosopher and poet Rumi. In 1244, Rumi meets the enigmatic Shams-i-Tabrizi, and their deep connection and friendship changes everything, not only for the men themselves but also for Rumi’s family.
Even today, Rumi’s teachings and ideologies are popular across the world, so it’s surprising that a musical hasn’t been written about him before.
The production feels somewhat swallowed up on the huge stage of the Coliseum, with its small cast and minimal set. However, I liked the relative simplicity of it all, allowing the audience space to concentrate on the story and music. I was instantly reminded of Children of Eden and Godspell, not only because of the show’s religious context but because of the measured and philosophical dialogue that takes place between songs.
This isn’t a fast-paced musical; it’s ballad-heavy, and on first listen, not all the songs have a strong hook. But the cast, led by seasoned West End performer Ramin Karimloo (Shams) and Naaman himself (Rumi), deliver strong and powerful performances. A particular standout is duet Somewhere in act two, sung by Rumi’s wife Kara (Soophia Foroughi) and stepdaughter Kimya (Casey Al-Shaqsy).
Rumi: The Musical is very much about fusion. The show is interspersed with sections of dance, a mix of contemporary and Middle Eastern, and the music deftly intertwines Persian and Middle Eastern sounds with more traditional musical theatre fare. I did find myself wishing the volume could be turned up a few notches, as the sound overall was missing that extra bit of punch, but the score has intrigued me enough to want a second listen. It was also wonderful to hear that traditional Middle Eastern instruments formed part of the orchestra.
Rumi: The Musical has a way to go before it reaches the dizzying heights of other West End debuts, but this mystical musical was a pleasant and sometimes powerful journey through the life of a man who still inspires millions today.
This show is warm, silly, affectionate, whacky and very funny. But, actually it’s more than it seems on the surface. At the heart of all the surreality of this upbeat Christmas jolly lies an immigration story, questions about inclusion, adaptation, fitting in and a gentle euthanasia subplot. And that’s why it works. We get real emotion as well as escapist nonsense from this accomplished cast of seven, several of whom are actor-musos.
A pair of enterprising Tanzanian hyenas, whose English is perfect, steal the identities of two tourists eaten by a crocodile. The new Mr and Mrs Bold, tails hidden under their clothes, come to live in the former Bold home in Teddington – where they, and soon their two children, conceal their Hyena identity, get jobs and live more or less as if they were human beings. They laugh a lot, as hyenas do and Mr Bold (David Ahmad) works as a writer of cracker jokes and some of them are very good. They don’t get on with their neighbour (Sam Pay) and eventually mount a rescue operation for a threatened hyena in a safari park – and that’s most of the plot.
Julian Clary’s songs are bright, cheerful and catchy and with orchestrations and arrangements by Simon Wallace (on stage on keys) they range over a whole spectrum of styles. The retro rock and roll number “There’s nothing keener than a hyena” is good fun, for example, with the word “Hyena” flown down on a big panel with flashing
James Button’s set is neat. We see a kitchen, a dining room and bedroom and at one point a simple but clever way of showing of two groups of hyenas tunnelling towards each other under a brick wall. And there’s a skeletal blue Skoda in which the Bolds drive round the safari park.
Of course you don’t have to work very hard to see that the Bolds, with their different ways, trying desperately hard to conform are like any other immigrants. It’s hilarious but also mildly poignant. And the story about Tony who has to be rescued because he’s old and the vets are going to put him down really pulls at the heart strings. Bear in mind, too, that Julian Clary wrote this so when rescued Tony chums up with Mr McNumpty we are wittily led to sense that they might have a future together beyond friendship.
I’m awarding the fourth star for two reasons. First the performance of Amanda Gordon as Mrs Bold is glorious. She communicates volumes with the merest look, sings beautifully and moves compellingly. Second, I loved the tuba (Sam Pay) in the orchestrations. It gives aural depth and adds an unusual sparky musical humour.
But the funniest joke of the evening (on press night) was not scripted. Sam Pay, resignedly and rhetorically, as Mr McNumpty: Who knows what’s been going on while I’ve been at the shop? Child in audience: Me!
