(Linda Kirkman, The Echo)

It may have been a typically damp British evening outside, but in the De La Salle it was sun, sangria and all things Spanish in this excellent fast-paced comedy.
Set around the perils of collecting the wrong bag at the luggage carousel, not to mention mistaken identities, deceptions galore and a snake hiding in the bougainvillaea, it was a joy from start to finish. Peter Nunan’s direction was superbly detailed, there were fine performances all round and the marvelous set looked every inch the Spanish villa it represented. Every nuance of Eric (Rising Damp) Chappell’s script was brought out and the cast did it total justice. Tony Edwards & Victoria Liechti were perfectly cast as illicit holidaymakers Sam and Fay Spencer - their manic masquerade as local cleaners absolutely brought the house down. They were well matched by Martyn French (who must deserve several gold stars for his nightly soaking) as actor Howard Booth and Rachel Mackrell as his girlfriend, Dodie. The timing of all four was nigh-on perfect.
Mark Andrews was extremely impressive as the sinister-looking Raynor – I loved his drug-induced descent into a stupor – and John Sivewright, despite his ‘red indian stripes’, sounded suitably menacing as villain Moon.

(The Echo)

This play by Terrence Rattigan evoked splendidly those so distant wartime memories - the drone of overhead planes, windows taped against blast, the black out, food shortages, etc. Is it really sixty years since RAF (sic) slang masked the fears of folk who nightly faced bombing raids and anxious separations? As proprietress of the Falcon hotel, on the edge of the flare path, Mrs Okes (Sheila Clapcott) sustained comic huffiness and Adam Davis was the perky young waiter Percy. Jennie Eyre as Countess Skriezevinsky, aka Daisy, was perhaps less blowsy than an ex-barmaid should be while her husband Johnny (Laurie Patey) performed well as a Polish airman struggling with English until his return from a “prang in the drink” rendered him oddly tongue-tied. The glamorous Patricia (Rosie Lock) planned to leaver her apparently dashing husband Flight Lieutenant Graham (Richard Fudge) for a somewhat uncharismatic film star Peter Kyle (Simon Trueick) - oh for Cary Grant! The marriage is saved when “Teddy” Graham breaks down and confesses his fear of flying. A lively Sergeant Miller (John Sivewright), genial Squadron Leader Swanson (Mark Andrews), Katie Frost and Mike Scott completed the cast. An excellent set and sound effects complimented interesting direction by Lesley Lock.

(Linda Kirkman, The Echo)

This traditional script is written by acknowledged panto king Peter Denyer, Over the years it has been performed by the best, and I venture to suggest that that is still the case. It seems that no expense has been spared to give us the most lavish production possible - the finale costumes alone are worthy of the West End. And the band, led by Alastair Hume, plays like a dream. The production team of Lesley Lock, Victoria Liechti and Claire Camble-Hutchins has done a fantastic job - everyone on stage sparkles as if their lives depend on it and every scene is stunning. Principal performances are without exception, a joy. There’s Jenni Eyre’s dim Fairy Moonbeam, Paul Tumilty’s ever-leering Fleshcreep, Pip Newman’s sweet Jill, Rosie Lock’s excellent hero, Jack, Richard Fudge’s superb Silly Billy, Martyn French’s toothy dimwit King Maurice, Owen Kerr’s massive Giant Blunderbore and Tony Edward’s wonderful Dame Trot - every man’s nightmare down to her red-vanished fingernails. And how could I forget Daisy the Cow (Sally Davis and Aideene Turley) or that undoubted star in the making, eight-year-old Gregory Edwards, as a most endearing hen? The show runs until next Saturday, and it’s worth climbing a beanstalk to see.