The play, first performed in 1972, brings together six self-absorbed characters (plus an offstage couple and a troublesome dog called George.) In the three acts, the onstage action at three consecutive Christmas gatherings ends up in the kitchens. As in the later Abigail's Party, the characters make us laugh with their flaws, frailties and idiosyncrasies, while their failure to recognize the true state of their relationships with one anothe, relationships full of misinterpretations and self deceit, so plain to the audience, adds a serious, distinctly disturbing side to the drama.

Act I whisks us convincingly back to the 1970s with a glorious embodiment of a first fitted kitchen plus some truly dated and startling attitudes to class and gender roles - and a burst of Benny Hill. Matthew Cottle's Sidney is nicely annoying and meticulously restrained (in the vein of Martin in Ever-decreasing Circles) as he capers and kow-tows to well-spoken bank manager (David Griffin) and his wife.

Sarah Crowe gives a wonderful, endearing sparkle to Sidney's wife, Jane, ever willing, ever cheerful, subservient to Sidney's ridiculous demands and massively obsessed with her housewifely duties, wiping and dusting everything in sight, including pieces of fruit and Sidney himself as she trills out jolly Christmas songs.

Deborah Grant brings Marion convincingly to life as a sophisticated alcoholic, her hair and herself growing wilder as her fortunes decline. In contrast, Honeysuckle Weeks, as architect's wife, Eva, neatens up considerably as she gets a grip on her disturbed emotions after spending all of act two being quietly demented, owing largely to the philanderings of dark, brooding husband, Geoffrey. (Marc Bannerman.) Her series of elaborate suicide attempts, by knife, poison, hanging, electrocution, and jumping from a great height inspire much laughter as each, in turn, is accidentally thwarted by the oblivious guests. Having her head in the gas oven is interpreted by Jane as an obvious and thoroughly understandable desire to clean the oven in spite of feeling ill. Even the old cliched gag of water pouring into a sink while someone lies, face-up, fixing the U-bend (it's helpful Sidney), gets a good giggle.

The play ends, though, on a note of eerie chaos, the unwanted party proceedings led by a Sidney whose confidence has grown along with his wealth and standing, just as that of his former superiors has declined.

You certainly can't accuse this production, directed by Alan Strachan, of emphasising the comedy at the expense of the more serious drama. While providing some fine laughs along the way, it has the audience leaving the theatre somewhat in a state of alarm, just as disturbed as amused. A job well done, then!

Eileen Gray