I confess it: Tish, thought I; surely I did rather well on my Shakespeare paper in Part One of Tripos? Wasn’t my USP my access to the text as it would be on stage? Hadn’t I actually got rather a decent idea of all this stuff, and hadn’t I in some ways rather less to learn that some of these people?

Naturally, and as is generally to be expected in life when one feels too sure of one’s own competence a long time after last exercising it, I was utterly, completely, and embarrassingly wrong.

Within ten minutes of the start, I’d remembered that, set against every inward textual thought I’d ever had whilst contemplating the performance of Shakespeare from my university sofa, there existed the actual production of it for an audience- a group of people who collectively constituted the fundamental reason I as an actor am on the stage, and whose presence profoundly inflects every turn of phrase or the foot. What the Riverside Shakespeare describes (with its own distinctive dry humour) as “bawdy quibbles” turned into the most outrageous innuendos. The driest, flattest text with the least connection between the characters on the page pops up into a fast, witty, and far from trivial construction that holds the audience spellbound and reshapes the stage for those on it as well as those around it.

Essentially, I’m saying I got rather over-excited by the whole thing and thoroughly enjoyed it. Bring me a board. I wish to tread it.

Whilst Pig might benefit from some gentle trimming toward the end of the first act, especially for the younger members of the audience, the second act sweeps in with great assurance and some of what, if this were not in the workmanlike surroundings of the ROH’s Linbury Studio, I would be tempted to call ‘catchy numbers’. There’s some neat wordplay in the libretto throughout, too, which culminates in some truly delicious couplets, all of which escape me now but which made sufficiently different sense to kids and grown-ups to provoke the odd coughing fit. (Remember, kids, a spindle’s not a plaything….) Some witty costuming helps — I loved the three princesses’ wigs — and the cast give every impression of having a great deal of fun with it.

There’s pizzazz in the staging, though personal taste would have made more use of the vertical space the studio affords, undeniable comedy throughout, and if the idea of kids puts you off, bear in mind this is still the ROH – Tarquin and Jocasta were kept well under thumb.

Now I just need a new car, a spare couple of hundred thousand quid for gifts, a place in the country and a couple of labradors and I’ll be practically Chelsea material. Well. Hmm. Maybe not.

Obviously hip-hop is my thing now. I am buying my spray cans this afternoon and will be practising my “tag” all afternoon in a well-ventilated area. Just as soon as I’ve done the washing.