Delightfully viperish Renee Savage, superbly portrayed by Echo Irving, the grande dame of the cast, sent many a snide and unpleasant comment ricocheting off the skull of her main rival, Christa D'Amato, a tour de force from Liz Thomas. Never less than inspired, Liz/Christa's finest hour was the point at which Mrs Puttock went into crone mode: the resultant limping, creaking, harshvoiced
trembling old bag was hilarious, and had the whole audience in fits of laughter. Either of these two ghastly hags would have been ripe for terminal plucking; in the event, it was Renee who was felled
by the paraquat.

Renee's repellently self-centred old roué of a husband, Boris, played with pony-tailed panache by Peter Jones, looked as if he'd just emerged from Woodstock - and it certainly transpired that free love was an important part of his philosophy, as he treated successive young actresses to his dinner and casting couch routine.

His main squeeze, Ginette Vincent, was played with a lovely light touch by Sarah Osman. Clearly at the back of the queue when brains were being given out, Ginette simpered and flirted, batted her
eyelashes and did a particularly fine line in the Lady Diana dipped head look. Once arrested for the murder of her lover's wife, the only thing the rest wondered - and with some justification - was how she'd summoned the intelligence to plan the poisoning.

Meanwhile Tim Fermor, played by Michael Berkley, whinged constantly about Equity stipulations as he cantered about the stage in his role as Major Rodney Pirbright. When he wasn't casting doleful and loving glances at Ginette, he was hamming up his character's shell-shock twitch to such an extent that Boris eventually yelled, 'Shell-shock, not an orgasm!' When told to speak in a higher register, Tim squeaked and grated like a counter tenor with laryngitis, much to the delight of the
audience.

Incompetent and pretentious, Harrison strewed the stage with illicit bottles of whisky as he forgot
his lines, stumbled, locked himself into, or fell out of, the cupboard, and started many a monologue with, 'When I was with Rafe Richardson...'
Harrison/Peter's black wig must tie with the cupboard for most splendid prop of the play.

Like inadequately scraped road-kill, it lurked menacingly atop Harry's head; one felt it probably
had a life of its own once the lights were out and the greasepaint washed off - and in all likelihood oozed into the Green Room to spawn between
shows.

Kate Morley's Triggs at the start of the play was a deliciously sullen performance, but she really came into her own as the curious and intelligent
Sophie.

The symbolism and symmetry implied when she took over the part, and silvery dress, of Ginette, a woman so completely her opposite in every respect, was wonderful.

All credit to Mark Bullen for directing such a marvellous play, and for bringing such a talented cast of actors to our attention.

The play could not have reached such a high standard without the large cast of back-stage helpers: from the set to the lighting, the props and costumes to the bar, it was truly a team effort - and an outstandingly successful one.