A three-way problem

In his recent trilogy, Damsels In Distress, Alan Ayckbourn depicted a sexually inexperienced teenager setting up a prostitute's agency from home in order to help out her financially floundering mother.

Despite one song about swinging (sexually not musically), a rather more innocent world is depicted in his chamber musical about a housewife on the verge of a nervous breakdown, who fantasises that she might seduce a local reporter who is apparently interviewing her about being Mother of the Year.

Me, Myself and I confused some people in the audience when I saw it in preview, because three actresses play different aspects of the same woman's personality: the bored, the bitchy and the brazen.

This is not remotely the fault of Kim Grant's clear, well-acted and beautifully sung production - which nonetheless does nothing to help the fact that Ayckbourn's escape-from-the-kitchen-sink musical is clearly past its sell-by date.

In 1983, one critic commended Ayckbourn and Paul Todd's piece for offering "more civilised pleasure than any other British musical I've seen this year". What has happened to civilisation since then? Certainly enough to make a heroine in an Easter Bunny-pink jacket, Laura Ashley-style culottes and virginally white strappy shoes seem virtually irrelevant: she even makes Wendy Craig look like a bit of a goer.

The tragedy is that Jacqui Charlesworth, especially - as Me - has the sympathetic stage presence and musical talent to hint subtley at the layers of frustration inherent in domestic damnation. Nigel Richards, first as the reporter, then as her career-obsessed husband, sings well, but would benefit by dispensing with a comedic laugh that would embarrass a hyena.

Ironically, this musical displays all Ayckbourn's strengths, including his immense sympathy for women, and his schematic ingenuity. Sadly, they would be better enjoyed elsewhere.

Me, Myself And I