Daisy Pulls It Off, Lyric Theatre, London

You can't shake a hockey stick at this spiffingly funny pastiche
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Ooh, I say, Bunty, look! A revival of Daisy Pulls It Off has just opened in the West End. No, I don't know what the "it" is that she pulls off, you old silly Wilhelmina. It just means, you know, that she generally turns up trumps.

Ooh, I say, Bunty, look! A revival of Daisy Pulls It Off has just opened in the West End. No, I don't know what the "it" is that she pulls off, you old silly Wilhelmina. It just means, you know, that she generally turns up trumps.

Yes, it's set in a girls' school rather like ours. Gymslip Heaven, as Uncle Quentin calls it, the rotter. Only this one is named Grangewood and it's 1927 and Daisy is the first scholarship girl taken from an elementary school.

Two absolute reptiles, Sybil and Monica, also from the Fourth, make Daisy's life hell on rollerskates. Well, slow-coach, because they're snobs and because Daisy is simply groaning with grey matter and is a total godsend on the hockey field. I absolutely can't bear class distinctions, can you, Bunty? Why, only the other day, I gave matron's old mother one of my scrummiest smiles. Pity she's blind, poor raddled old bat.

Anyway, it says in this newspaper that Sybil and Monica beaver away like billy-o to make Daisy seem to be an exam-cheat, a tell-tale, a sloven, and an all-round bad egg and Daisy can't defend herself because it's a point of honour at the school not to sneak.

The critic-chappy here says that that kind of stupid code gives the green light to creeps, bullies and sadists. Oh, what pi-jaw, Bunty. The poor man's potty.

Yes, he does like the show – quite a lot, it seems. He thinks that Katherine Heath is spiffingly funny as Daisy's super-keen best chum, Trixie, and that Hannah Yelland is top-hole, in a humorously "honour-bright" sort of manner, as our heroine.

He says that Denise Deegan's play has more likeably awful gags than you can shake a hockey stick at – what with inter-dormy hot water bottle fights, and schoolgirl "pashes" (whatever, they are, Bunty darling) and clifftop rescues.

He loves the way that David Gilmore's production, with its "high-energy puckish pastiche" (ye gods, Bunty), captures the fact that the play is a mock-celebration of the values of Grangewood. I say, I don't like the sound of that "mock", Bunty. If you ask me, it doesn't look as if this show is coming to us off a straight bat.

But I bet that Katherine Igoe's head girl, Claire ("a mixture of the goddess Diana and Doris Day in Calamity Jane"), is an example to us all. And this poor critic-wallah does admit that, almost as much as Harry Potter, Daisy is a great argument for single-sex education.

No, dearest, I suspect that that's a joke. Do you still want to go, Bunty? Yes, so do I. Last one down the creeper's a creepy-crawly. O hinc spes effulget!

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