Naked Boys Singing

I didn’t know what to expect from a show with the title ‘Naked Boys Singing’. This may sound terribly naive, but be thankful there is still some innocence in the world. Would they be naked all the time? Would I be subjected to sixty-five minutes of bobbing pudenda? Well, not a bit of it. This show is as tasteful as they come, and as daring and as sexy and as fulfilling as the title suggests. You may not be able to take your granny, but she probably came the night before anyway.The songs are a delight, and there are seventeen numbers in all, linked by the thinnest of plots - well, who needs a plot anyway when naked boys sing. The setting is a rehearsal room. Naked boys are about to sing. Frankly, that’s all you need to know. They start off clothed, and as the show rolls on, the kit gradually rolls off, in the best striptease tradition - leave something to the end, but don’t disappoint. The opening number “Gratuitous Nudity” sets the stage and tells us exactly what to expect, and there is a wonderful turn by the pianist - who thankfully kept his clothes on - which is nothing less than an ode to that great Hollywood idol Robert Mitchum. What, you may ask, does Robert Mitchum have to do with naked boys singing? Quite a lot actually, if you find the artificially pumped up bodies of some gym queens less than attractive. There’s a gorgeous, fun little number “Perky Little Porn Star” sung by perky and not so little Duncan Leighton, and a great song by the entire company “Nothing But The Radio On”. I could go on and on about the songs, but that’s not what you want to hear, is it? They are all excellent and beautifully performed, and had I spent the evening with my eyes shut I would have been happy. Well, fairly happy.There was a production of this show in New York where, I believe, the clothes came off too near the beginning, leaving nothing to hit the audience with at the end. Phil Wilmott’s saucy and highly enjoyable production does not make the same mistake. The best is always yet to come, and when the last bits of kit come off, and the pudenda start bobbing - well, they don’t so much bob as snuggle during the dances - one feels it would be wonderful to join in. This is a cheeky show (and yes, I had to say that) with seven good-looking male canaries who can dance and sing their hearts out. And if that isn’t a good formula, I don’t know what it is. Don’t miss it.