Fifteen years ago, Tim Firth was just another would-be writer determined to make a name for himself in big, bold letters. He achieved this by writing a play about big, bold letters. Invited by Alan Ayckbourn to write a one-act lunchtime show for the theatre restaurant, Firth decided the best way to rise above the clatter of cutlery would be a scenario involving two workmen on the side of a building who would be obliged to shout to each other.
Firth has now returned to his debut, extending it into a full evening's entertainment. The first part is basically a reprise of the lunchtime piece, originally entitled Man of Letters, in which we meet Frank, a 20-year veteran of industrial signage who can be moved to tears by the poetry of certain floor-mounted bracketing systems.
It's basically an extended sketch, setting up a sensational sight gag with illuminated lettering. But even within these confines, Firth succeeds in giving the hero depth of personality. For years Frank has struggled to publish a spy novel because, he says, "It would be nice to become immortal - not for ever, just a little bit."
The new second half presents the continuing adventures of Frank, now retraining as a haplessly unpersuasive salesperson in an electrical appliance store. Again, it's a bit sketchy, but Firth diligently amplifies his original themes and tops it with a gag even more funny than the first.
There's great work throughout from Michael Bertenshaw as Frank and Michael Imerson doubling as a truculent work-experience lad and a David Brent-ish electrical store manager. Best of all, there are no noisy diners to distract you.
· Until August 5. Box office: 01723 370541.
