Janet Kay and Donna Steele in Cinderella. Photograph: Tristram Kenton.
Fresh from the first leg in my panto marathon, I'm still humming the song about bogies and poo, which is a tribute to the skill of the lyricist responsible and also deeply unpleasant for anyone spending time with me.
Next up is Cinderella at London's Hackney Empire, which unfortunately or not, depending on your point of view, had no big name like Joe Pasquale to dazzle us. The celebrity factor was left to surprise audience member Vanessa Feltz. Disappointingly, she was not hauled on stage and expected to do hand actions to a song or generally tormented in any fashion.
In fact, Cinderella was a more sedate audience than Dick's, unswayed by the persuasive power of sweets. And having previously shared theatrical space with coach loads of children seemingly fuelled by E-numbers, I began to miss the gladiatorial spirit. Because although watching a panto is difficult, watching a panto where two glove puppets pop out and shout "make some noise" only to meet an indifferent silence is far, far worse.
Children also act as brilliant shields, soaking up the insults hurled by panto performers - but at the Hackney Empire, there was a dearth of youth groups to hide behind. As if to confirm my worst fears, a shy looking middle-aged man two rows down was picked on by the most brilliantly appalling Ugly Sisters I have ever seen. He remained the protagonist in a series of innuendos throughout the production and his wife was insulted about her looks, which might have been funny if she hadn't looked like she half believed it.
I never thought I'd say it, but at the next pantomime I'm praying for scores of obnoxious, loud, screaming kids.
