One for the die hard, stalker type fan only, and then make sure you drink at least a litre of wine.  

Like a visit to a glamorous dentist this was slick discomfort. The barely there plot flits around five young men who enter a local talent to win money. Along the way they discover fame is hard work, comes at a price but friendships last forever. Everyone’s a stereotype, most of them appear retarded, happy ending. Pass the bucket.

The set is like a cheap TV game show, huge blue arch, nice lights. Roll on roll off bar. Sequined umbrellas.  Blinds that go up, and down (imagine)! That’s it. The music is full on and the band were ok, given the rubbish they had to churn out, 'Take That’ songs mangled in every way imaginable. The singers were weak at best, bum notes, no emotion, after being on tour for more than a year I’d expect this to have been ironed (or beaten) out.

The dancers were keen but all over the place, some real hoofers, the entire crew should be whipped along with Karen Bruce who’s to blame for the derivative choreography and who won an Oliver award and obviously has stopped making any effort since. It annoys me to see obviously talented dancers forced to dance this kind of twee unimaginative rot. Think Pans People without the style.

Sex Appeal: Zilch, unless you’re a twenty something slightly desperate, emotionally crippled  obsessive ‘Take That’  fan with hormonal abnormalities and a drink problem who hasn’t’ had a snog since the late 90’s and who’s overweight husband spends too much time banging off to filth on x-tube and then buys a ticket to this crap to compensate for the neglect.

To be honest to call it a musical is a con, folk try and sing and there’s some flashy lights and dancing but there’s no soul to this confection at all.

I laughed out loud at some of the dancing, witnessing the worse Merengue and Salsa I’ve ever seen on the English stage, rolled my eyes at the endless crotch flashing and sad innuendo. From start to finish It felt like crashing Jodi Marsh’s hen party at  Centre Parc, and I think this is what it really is. 

We were promised a 24 foot ‘curtain of rain’ what we got were some dancers and umbrellas with sequins stuck on and a smoke machine that roared distractively through out three quarters of the show.

The theatre was half empty, although to be fair this might have had something to do with the terrible weather, although I suspect it is to do with the terrible show.

I hate being mean to an enthusiastic and young cast, but I’m not being mean I’m being honest.  I could ‘feel their pain’ is must be hard to find regular work but surely even Butlins would be better than this, and you get to wear a nice red coat too rather than a collection of frankly rubbish costumes.

The star of this show, a plucked, shaved, muscle boy who was once in an episode or two of Brookside spent his entire time on stage rolling & batting his (admittedly cute) eyes, jiggling about and flexing acting apparently as a stereotypical Mad’chester gay man, it was insulting, stupid and irritating after 20 seconds, also very believable too, I’d watch out Mrs Phillips if I were you.

None of the rest of the cast shone in any way at all, and there were a hell of a lot of them to be so dim. The running ‘Spanish’ accent joke was straight out of Fawlty Towers. I only stayed the course to see if it could get any worse and when the 20 strong kiddy choir came on, all dressed in soiled white, I passed out from a haemorrhage of enthusiasm and had to be helped from the theatre.. ..

Never Forget, oh how I wish I could.

Until 9^th January Theatre Royal, Brighton

Book here.