Dick Whittington and His Cat concerns a quasi-fictional London of some bygone age that succumbs to the evil plans of the signposted villain ‘Ratface’. Infesting the City with rats, he schemes to usurp the Mayorship of the city but is thwarted with the arrival of outsider Dick and his cheeky cat, Tommy, who root out the rats and win over the town’s affections. Ratface then frames Dick with the crime of stealing gold from local businessman, William Widl and his worker, the idle Jack. This deceit is uncovered very easily (too easily) in the second act before everyone goes on an excursion to ‘Monkey Island’ to meet the Maharaja. There is also an attempt at a love triangle between Jack, Widl’s daughter Alice and Dick, but everything resolves itself quite nicely in the end.

The writing is very inconsistent, sometimes landing its jokes confidently, other times sacrificing quality for quantity. Apart from the fact that the word “London” punctuates most lines of dialogue, there is nothing to suggest anything of this particular city. Indeed, if we’re being honest they could be talking about any city in the world. An endless list of references to London boroughs or famous figures should not be confused with successfully relating to one’s local audience and this criticism, itself, should not be confused with reviewer-snobbery – everyone loves a Panto at Christmas and there’s a lot of comedy-fat in this two-hour show that could use trimming in order to better please the tastebuds of audiences.

Equally frustrating is the fact that many of the performers seem to be at pains to really enjoy themselves and heed the advice of the venue’s pre-show announcement. One seasoned Irish actor once told me that the aim of any performance, be it at a National Opera House or a local city halls, was to play with the audience to such an extent that you would “have them in the palm of your hand”. Unfortunately, given the restrained nature of many of the performers, the result was instead that the majority of the audience, in their highly inebriated state, seemed to be making far more of an effort to enjoy themselves. There was a much-needed injection of playfulness from Simon Burbage’s Jack and his onstage mother and writer, Roy Hudd, as well as from Steven Hardcastle as Tommy the Cat, all of whom lift the production considerably.

On a serious note, there were three single instances where the company embarrassed themselves in a production open to both adults and kids alike. The cat makes gestures concerning women’s breasts behind Alice’s back, there is a cheap quip at sufferers of mental health (“up the pole”) and the Maharaja’s wife declares herself as being just one of her master’s “hot totties”. Regardless of whether or not these mistakes were intended with malice, this is not, I’m afraid, an instance of ‘political correctness gone mad’ but an extremely poor example to set for younger generations. The fact that these offences could go uncorrected by a female director is similarly worrying and they must be removed immediately from a show that is otherwise very good-natured in its interaction with children.

The ending section where Hudd brings child audience members onto the stage for a sing-song gives you that warm, fuzzy, Christmas feeling and the young members of the cast portraying the rats and the “oranges & lemons” deserve thorough recognition, as do Hudd, Flitcroft and company for making their production inclusive of them.

Mark Hinton’s design lends beautifully illustrated exteriors to the numerous features of the set and the coordination between set, light and sound for the storm sequence is particularly well realized. The costumes are appropriately ridiculous and fun.

Thirty pounds per head is by no means cheap and one thing definitely true to the city of London is the plethora of theatre and entertainment at your disposal. This well-meaning production has its moments, but still owes it audience more for their money than the sweets that are thrown (literally) at them during the show, if it wants to compete with the rest of London. This is not a ‘Bah Humbug’ moment but a wish for all the cast and company to embrace the Panto spirit as much as Messers Burbage and Hudd managed to do on the night.

Dick Whittington and His Cat is playing Wilton’s Music Hall until 31 December. For more information and tickets, see Wilton’s Music Hall website. Photo by Steve Ullathorne.