Would it be heresy to call Patience the best of the G&S operas? It is certainly the most plausible, with none of the convoluted mistaken identities and parentages which drive the plots of the others.

Young ladies who, last year, were engaged to a regiment of Heavy Dragoons have now fallen for Bunthorne, a poet about to be supplanted in their affections by another, more beautiful, poet, Archibald Grosvenor. Bunthorne persuades Grosvenor to become common-place, which then becomes the fashion. The young ladies revert to their dragoons, and all ends happily – except for Bunthorne.
Although Gilbert was satirising the Aesthetic movement of the late 19th century, Bunthorne admits his aestheticism is an affectation, born of a morbid love of admiration – a sentiment fully comprehensible to the world of 21st century celebrity culture.

If Bradley Travis is a bit too pretty for the fleshly Bunthorne, he plays it with verve and agility and lightness in his voice for his songs, however ringing the tones when reciting his ‘poetry’. He certainly looks Early English in his brocade coat over velveteen britches and tights.

Ross Ramgobin as Grosvenor, however, is as handsome in a greeny-gray three-piece tweed suit and brown bowler, with Cockney accent, as in a flowery cut-away coat and weskit. In his duets with Patience – a down-to-earth Laura Zolezzi more than a little exasperated by the young ladies – Grosvenor’s smug self-satisfaction is very clear.

The several lovesick maidens - in Grecian-inspired floaty garments at the sludgier end of pastel - sigh and throw themselves into affected attitudes with enthusiasm, with much recourse to matching handkerchiefs – to wipe away a tear, or as blindfolds when Bunthorne raffles himself.

The men are magnificent, if reminiscent of Harry Flashman. Robust and tuneful soldiers of the Queen, the receipt for the Heavy Dragoon is the cue for some serious work on their uniforms, which shows them up for the second raters they are, in all their shambolic glory.
The Duke (Aled Hall), Major Murgatroyd (Jan Capinski) and Colonel Calverley (Andrew Slater) don fancy shirts, floppy bows and bonnets, and tights, in their desperation to win back the affections of Lady Angela and Lady Saphir.

While Suzanne Fischer is the fashion-setting Angela and leader of her coterie, Gaynor Keeble’s Saphir would probably be happiest behind a hockey stick. Valerie Reid plays the elderly Lady Jane with enough self-awareness that, even at her most fervent, she retains some dignity.

Florence De Maré’s set is a corner in an aesthetic room, with bluey-green flock wallpaper on the walls, and several niches for entries, exits – and attitudinising  Director Liam Steel hardly gives the cast a moment’s rest, and the movement throughout is excellent, as is the singing and orchestral playing.

The song and dance is carried right through the curtain calls which are taken to a reprise of the ‘greatest hits’ – the charming Act 2 quintet ‘If Saphir I choose to marry’ – even conductor Timothy Burke takes his bow with the number’s quirky dance step, handing the partnerless Bunthorne a lily.