Steve Delaney’s character Count Arthur Strong, the former variety star, just shouldn’t work in the modern age.  That he does, and has moved beyond a cult following to one which packs out theatres across the country is down to sheer hard work and a comic genius creation which stands with the very best.  And I mean the very best.  Count Arthur is part Tony Hancock’s comic timing and pausing, part Tommy Cooper’s affectionate incompetence and part Morecambe and Wise’s sheer buffoonery. What should be an anachronism becomes the living embodiment of the golden age of comedy.

In his latest incarnation Count Arthur in a typically roundabout way tales us on an approximate trip down memory lane about one of the best musicals he can remember.  Except, of course, he can’t remember much very clearly.  Not that the audience would know the difference. Most of this lot probably haven’t left the house since Christmas, he comments.

The lovechild of Miss Malaprop and the Marx Brothers murders syntax and plot as he is quite happy to go off on a ‘Scottish Lucozade’ fuelled journey into surreal fantasy. This might encompass one of his ideas which ‘literally pour out of every orifice’ such as potential TV shows based on a mixture of murder and Grand Designs or about the workings of Wikipedia, or as it becomes in the Count’s strangled pronunciation, the World Wide Ilfracombe.

The sheer irascible nature of the character is his unique selling point.  This is a man who has to work with idiots, for idiots and is also fighting against a hidden enemy intent on making him forget what he is supposed to be doing. And it’s all their fault! In these moments the physicality is frustratingly bared.  Delaney works full throttle at the splay footed, windmillling arms and hand twitching mannerisms so perfectly that they become essential fluid elements of his very existence.

The opening is superb, with the curtain raised only knee high.  This allows Count Arthur to tease the audience and we get the message that he is already at the end of his tether. He’s fallen out with the fly operator although he wasn’t arguing he was just having a conversation at the top of his voice.

The malapropisms are hilarious, particularly around the tortured variations of both Sherlock Holmes and the latest bloke to play him – Bendytoy Cabbagepatch.  Moments of wonder pop into his head and we share the image of Ian McKellen and Derek ‘Jacobite’ shopping for cheap lager in Lidl.  The ventriloquist act comes complete with a very brave 2 full minutes of silence.  Silence apart from gales of laughter from the audience.

The finale promises much and although we see the Count in lederhosen cavorting around as he is ’17 going on 80’, there is a disappointment when the show seems to run out of steam and strangely fails to deliver the knockout punch that we all want.

Sidekicks Terry Kilkelly and Dave Plimmer provide great support, but it is the Count who counts.    ★★★★☆    Bryan Mason    19^th June 2017