The emphasis tonight is undoubtedly on the comic, with a veritable parade of pertinent parodies from Wilde to Sapper and from Beerbohm to Bloomsbury. But this is not to say that there is not a more serious note underlying this affectionate review of Britain in the first half of the twentieth century. “You could say,” argues Franklin as he explains the purpose of the school play, “that we

are trying to shed the burden of the past.” “Why must we shed it?” asks the Headmaster. “Memories are not shackles, Franklin, they are garlands.”

In search of background for the play I recently revisited the school where, forty years back, I sat with Alan Bennett to sing the song which gives tonight's play its title. Founded by Samuel Smiles, proponent of Self-Help and other manly virtues, as the Head was always reminding us in his prayers, the place looked friendlier now, even if the paint was flaking and the grass overgrown. “The School Song?” echoed the Secretary incredulously as I asked after a copy. “We don’t have

school songs now.” She remembered Alan Bennett vividly. “But a lot's happened since then, you know. We've gone non-selective, comprehensive and mixed. And we've had a fire.”

I like to think that Alan Bennett would have appreciated that remark as a more widely applicable encapsulation of recent history. Whether you side with Franklin or the Head is up to you. But whatever the message, there's a massive coating of sugar. So all you've got to do now is sit back and, in the words of Mr Bennett’s latest play – “Enjoy!”

Jeffrey Smith