100 YEARS OLD AND STILL SINGING A HAPPY TUNE...

WHATEVER you think about the Brexit negotiations, however much you may worry about the drastic fall in the value of the pound, whatever doubts may have been placed in your mind by the PM’s coughing, a letter falling off a slogan behind her or statements by the foreign secretary, there is one hugely cheering fact of which we should be proud: London is now experiencing the most scintillating era in the history of gloriously tasteless musicals.

The Book Of Mormon is still going strong and, as I have said before, is without doubt the finest musical that has ever been seen anywhere in the universe. Written by the creators of South Park it is, of course, gloriously irreverent and wickedly brilliant, but now it has been joined by at least one other superb model of tastelessness.

I say at least one, because I’ve not yet seen Young Frankenstein, the musical version of Mel Brooks’ film of the same name. I’m told that is rather good too, but I suspend judgement until able to form my own opinion.

Taselessness I have seen, and been reduced to quivering giggles by, is another musical adaptation of a mock horror film.

The Toxic Avenger was a 1984 superhero monster horror which has long been one of my favourite films.

Its humour, however, was often under-appreciated because of the shock created by the violence and gruesome make-up of the hero, who was a young wimp transformed by the experience of having been dropped into a vat of toxic waste.

Now, however, with added music, greatly enhanced humour and even worse taste, it is proving a huge hit at the Arts Theatre near Leicester Square tube station in London.

Joe DiPietro (who wrote the book for the show) and David Bryan (who wrote the music and lyrics) have turned a cult film into a veritable comic romp, performed by a cast of astonishingly versatile singer/actor/dancers, none of whom I had heard of before.

That such a thing is possible is a tribute of the depth of talent in British acting schools and music colleges. With only five in the cast, most indulged in quick costume changes in impressive fashion to play several parts.

This culminates in a scene in which Natalie Hope, as both Toxie’s mum and the Mayor of Tromaville, has a ferocious argument with herself, disappearing and changing clothes and wig to switch characters with great rapidity, leading to a glorious fight with herself wearing half one costume and half the other. It has to be seen to be disbelieved.

Lest one dismisses such things as trivial in these troubled times, I should say I am writing all this because it has given me yet another idea of a way to solve the Brexit deadlock.

Why don’t we invite Monsieur Barnier to London and take him to The Book Of Mormon, Toxic Avenger and Young Frankenstein? I feel this would give him a new, positive view of Britain and inspire him to give us everything we want to keep a good relationship.

Or if it doesn’t, we could consider dropping him into a vat of toxic waste.