The story centres on Charles Cholmondeley (Cumming), the socially inept MI5 operative who dreams up the plan, and Ewen Montague (Hodgson), the brash, hyper-confident, public-school-educated narcissist who sells the scheme to their commanding officer. Really, though, all five performers transcend individual characters, and indeed their virtuosic multitasking is the show’s hallmark.  In the utterly audacious first-half climax the story cuts between Montague and Cholmondeley out on the razz, and the solemn, dignified submarine crew tasked with deploying the body… with the same actors playing both sets of characters. The substantially gender-swapped casting isn’t – I think! – trying to make any great point, but the fact it encourages the cast to ham away frantically – especially Hodgson, who must be shredding her larynx as the gravelly voiced Montague – sets the tone nicely.

The songs are funny, detailed and entertainingly eclectic – they lean towards the vaudevillian, though there’s a modern, ‘Hamilton’-ish punch to the rhymes. They’re laser-focussed on getting us to laugh: there’s little of the saccharine baggage of the average musical, no romance, no learning life lessons, no big introspective moments. But the company also pull an absolutely devastating ballad out of the bag in ‘Dear Bill’, as Malone – in the guise of matronly secretary Hesther Leggett – dictates a ‘fake’ personal letter to be planted on the corpse, one that’s clearly suffused with intense, unexpressed personal pain. It’s a wonderful moment: slightly weird, slightly queer, achingly tender – just one song, but enough to make the whole show feel more profound.

Really, it’s a delight from start to finish.

(Extract from review in TimeOut written by Andrzej Lukowski, Theatre & Dance Editor, UK.)

The deadline has now passed for registering for the reserved 20 seats in the Upper Circle at roup rate £39.50. It may be possible to add to the group. Please contact John Thornley