This year's Old Vic Christmas campfest is penned by the floppy-fringed thesaurus himself, with Sandi Toksvig stepping in as the narrator. Indeed, it promises to bring so many national treasures under one roof they'll probably need round-the-clock security and various laser beams to keep our assets secure.
The Old Vic press release pledges "a sparkling tale of magic, midnight and mischief, jam-packed with laughter, cross-dressing, singing, shoes, envy, dancing and cake," the only way to get your fill of such pleasures outside the annual Tory party conference.
I won't spoil the ending except to say there are wedding bells for a certain downtrodden step-sister and nothing but ignominy and embarrassment for her pumpkin. Tickets start from pound;10