Long regarded as a classic but now something of a rarity, Philip King's 1944 farce retains social-documentary interest as an example of the humour that won the war.

Set in the vicarage of one of those typical English villages which featured on wartime propaganda posters, it revolves around a vicar who has somewhat implausibly married a fluffy former actress whose uncle happens to be a bishop. A tweedy spinster is hanging around, expressing her disapproval of the wife's flighty behaviour.

When the vicar is unexpectedly called away and a former thespian colleague of his wife turns up in uniform, playtime begins. Suffice to say that before the end a Dad's Army sergeant will have to sort out four vicars - two bogus, one an escaped German prisoner - and the aforementioned bishop.

Although it is somewhat over-wrought and a modern writer might allow himself less licence over the effects of concussion - this revival directed by the actor Douglas Hodge shows there is still plenty of life in the old war-horse.

If if it seems much younger than its 60 years, perhaps that's because it so clearly represents the tradition which later bred TV's geatest sitcom, Fawlty Towers.

Relishing the challenge of playing 1940s actors, Hattie Morahan and particularly Jo Stone-Fewings give beautifully in-period performances.

There is excellent support from Julie Legrand as the spinsterish butt of everyone's humour and Natalie Grady as a bolshy maid. Nicholas Blane is perfect as the unwitting visitor who blunders into the madhouse of Act 3, and there is that wonderful actor Benjamin Whitrow, dream-cast as the bishop.

Put in the mood by a pre-show soundtrack of Glenn Miller and other wartime hits, the audience loved it, and so did I.

* Running time: Two hours, five minutes. Until Saturday.

Terry Grimley