Isobel McArthur’s Pride and Prejudice (*sort of) is a riotous retelling of Austen’s classic, told by the overworked household staff who take great delight in the romantic dramas unfolding around them. The result is a gloriously irreverent comedy that brings Austen’s humour to the forefront, with lashings of slapstick, rapid-fire character changes and a healthy dose of mischief.

The servants are not content simply to get on with their duties, instead stepping into the roles of the Bennet sisters, their suitors and an assortment of other characters. Despite the constant character switching, the story remains remarkably easy to follow, with the familiarity of Austen’s plot allowing the production to play with expectations rather than spend time establishing them.

The five performers are an absolute delight, working overtime to bring this sprawling cast to life. The sheer range of characters taken on by the ensemble is impressive in itself. Georgia May Firth leads the way as an obstinate Lizzie Bennet, while Phoebe Marshall moves from the snobbish Caroline Bingley to her besotted brother Charles. Eva Hope swaps the playboy charm of Mr Wickham for the gentle sweetness of Jane Bennet, and Julia Murray is equally entertaining, going from the hysterics of Mrs Bennet to the stoicism of Mr Darcy. Understudy Grace Farrell does a fabulous job with perhaps the most varied rotation of characters, flitting between the frivolous Kitty and Lydia Bennet, their hard-done-by sister Mary and the wonderfully dull Mr Collins. Each character feels distinct, with the performers making the most of their contrasting mannerisms and personalities. It’s all wonderfully chaotic, but clearly the result of an ensemble that works exceptionally well together.

The production’s aesthetic is equally playful. A rather pink, fancy library provides the backdrop, while Regency-inspired costumes are paired with Doc Martens, red Solo cups and a karaoke machine. Spritzes of Mr Muscle double as rainfall, and every opportunity for a singalong is seized. Kylie, Carly Simon and Carole King are among those whose songs find their way into the action, with nobody safe once these performers get their hands on a microphone. With its karaoke-bar energy, the emphasis is firmly on the fun of it all rather than hitting every note perfectly. If anything, the occasional questionable vocal feels entirely intentional, with the sheer joy the cast brings to their performances and choreography shining through.

Fans of the slapstick liveliness of Operation Mincemeat will find plenty to enjoy here. McArthur’s adaptation has a similar appetite for physical comedy and theatrical inventiveness, with the small cast bringing an irresistible energy that keeps the audience laughing throughout. It’s a wonderfully silly celebration of a story that has clearly stood the test of time, and a reminder that even the most familiar classics can be given a fresh lease of life.