Ah, the damage you can wreak with a gauzy scarf, a tutu, an overweening ego and perhaps just a hint of chest hair. Yes, the Trocs have been on tour again, delighting all afficionados of classical ballet with a programme of dance excerpts that embody every little girl’s dream of point shoes, white tulle, slender arms arching as elegantly as a swan’s neck and the distinct possibility that you’ll find yourself towering a foot taller than your Prince Charming. All the dancers here (but not all the roles) are blokes, more than capable of twirling on tippy-toes while smiling winsomely but also alert to the ridiculous possibilities inherent in the formal body language of traditional ballet. As the show opens with a heavily accented Russian voice-over telling us that there will be an interval after the Dying Swan because they’ll need time to clear it away, the comic intent is inherent, though the dancing is so good that it takes the audience a while to realise they’re allowed to laugh. The mood relaxes, however, as one entrancing swanlette of the shorter persuasion subverts grace and chorus conformity with gesture, expression and an irresistible comic presence. As the programme goes on we are also applauding wildly at every entrechat, pirouette and jete – the dancing is so good it doesn’t have to rely on the comedy, but the comedy is so good precisely because of the dancing.  So many memorable moments - Swan maidens hopping across the stage with different swimming strokes, Baroque speed-walking, hand movements like playground games, hip movements like vintage disco, wandering spotlights and falling feathers (best not ask how the prince got those in his mouth) plus endless variations on the art of hoisting a long-limbed diva into the air and an entrancing curtain call. A delight for all fans of energetic young men in tights.

Gail-Nina Anderson