You see a lot of sights in this job: flying supermarket trolleys, robot pigs, nudity. But you rarely find yourself in happy contemplation of hunky young men wearing random items of Victorian ladies’ underwear and singing “Tripping hither, tripping thither”.
I am usually a Gilbert and Sullivan refusenik: despite the quotable patter and bouncy tunes I flinch at the whimsical plots, chop-logic riddling and psychological nullity, approving of Tom Lehrer’s judgment: “Full of words and music, signifying nothing.” But in Sasha Regan’s rollickingly silly all-male production I came to love it.
It helps that it’s in Wiltons Music Hall, whose brave decorative decrepitude echoes ancient larks and laughter. The opening is inspired: in pitch darkness boys creep on to the dusty stage with torches, whispering and giggling and exploring hampers: one finds a Victorian score of Iolanthe and starts to read, and from then on all can be pretence and play.
It is, of course, as camp as a flamingo in fishnets. Once you’ve got a dozen pretty lads in improvised wings trilling “We are dainty little fairies”, it has to be. Only the Fairy Queen, Alex Weatherhill, is on the butch side, despite his pink corset, fox-head fur and majestic mezzo.
But although there is pleasure in Phyllis having a five o’clock shadow, campery is decently subordinated to W. S. Gilbert’s intentional jokes when it needs to be: the “Liberal Conservative” gag is topical, and even the plight of Strephon, fairy to the waist but mortal in the trouser area, is not overdone. Well, not too much anyway.
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When ensemble fairies become lords, the rummage-sale outfits sprout motoring goggles, an ARP helmet, top hats and pyjamas; chains of office are conkers and pine cones. Only Strephon (Louis Maskell, lovely voice) is allowed dignity. Indeed, in their love duet his easy tenor rather shows up the problem of Phyllis singing falsetto: only some of the cast have true countertenor quality. But that’s the only beef, and the Lord Chancellor (Shaun McCourt) handles both patter and romantic tunes immaculately.
The choreography is a hoot, with the dreaded tum-ti-tum chorus repeat lines delivered by uncomfortably crouched fairies or flag-waving lords. Indeed, all the silly bits are improved by the general daftness. And a new comedy star rose in the extraordinary Reuben Kaye as fairy Celia. You can’t take your eyes off him: he’s beautiful, hilarious, knowing, wicked. Actually, they’re all adorable. It may be my age, but I wanted to take them all home for tea.
Box office 020-7702 2789; to May 7