First Night

I wasn't entirely sure the first preview was going to happen. After a reasonably smooth tech, everything suddenly started to go wrong on the dress.

1. Kabuki didn't drop at the top of the show

2. Revolve ceased to revolve half way through act I

3. Lift under the stage broke with a drop and a loud bang (whilst I was in it)

4. I fell arse over tit in a pile of sequins

Not a promising start.

So you can imagine how twitchy we all were as we listened through the dressing room speakers and heard the rackety audience filing in as the orchestra tuned up. The flicking of programme pages competing against the crunching of Maltesers, underscored by chatter and the gentle tightening of strings. Nerve-inducing noises if ever I heard them.

I sat behind the curtain at the top of the show, wondering what to expect. Wondering what the people the other side were expecting. Was the show even any good? I mean, I thought it was good, but what did I know? There could be two-and-a-half thousand people out there who might disagree. What if we sucked?

My worries were quickly allayed.

The kabuki dropped to deafening applause. As Patina stepped out, the audience erupted like a football crowd. No less than she deserved. She worked them like clay, oozing sass and style and delicious vunerability.

One thing I had forgotten lately was how funny the show was. For four months we had performed only to the people who watched us every day. Pretty boring for both sides. It had begun to feel just a little stagnant. The jokes felt laboured and trite and the show had less atmosphere than the moon.

You can imagine my delight when Claire Greenway practically stopped the show with her first line. It must have been a relief for her. To play a part where your sole purpose is to make people laugh must be pretty difficult without an audience. Claire has endured four months without an audience. Now she had four months' worth of Saturday night at the Comedy Store all in one night. Now, her every word, every breath were funny.

As each laugh topped the previous one, I rediscovered my favourite moments - the moments I liked before I had heard them seventy-five times. I waited for the laughs when Julia Sutton finished her verse in How I got The Calling - and was greeted with a round of applause. In fact, Julia managed to get a round for almost every line.

It was fun. Like hearing my favourite joke being told to someone new and waiting for their reaction. Sheila Hancock was on fire as the Mother Superior, dry as bone and with sharper timing than Big Ben. They loved her.

As for the musical numbers, Take Me To Heaven was exposive and Spread The Love was positively contagious. I think Raise Your Voice actually raised the roof.

The only thing that put me off slightly was having the Wanderer in the front row. The only ticket he could get was A10 in the stalls - to my absolute horror. Bang in the centre as well. He was so close to the musical director Nick Skillbeck that all through the show various members of the cast kept pointing him out to me on the monitors. Thankfully, he behaved himself. I didn't catch him yawning, although at one point I did see him biting his nails, even though he assures me he has given up the habit.

It was nice to have him there, though. We scurried down to Ronnie Scott's afterwards to celebrate. The nuns were out in force, downing the wine like it was their last ever communion and shrieking like they didn't have to belt top Gs first thing in the morning. What a fantastic evening.

I don't want to speak too soon, chickens, but I think it's going to be a hit.