Those Interested in the success of the Dramatic Club Revue watched Mr. Aimers face anxiously. For the last few days before the show It had been wan with care, for the president was a miserable man. But when he entered the Caf on Friday night he was observed to smile, and we knew that, whatever the weather, the Revue would go without a hitch. So "Salient" made sure of obtaining a free ticket. The smile swept like a warm breeze through frigid corridors and lecture rooms, and by ten past eight the house was full.

Potpurri.

The show had Everything, Ballets were drawn from Mexico, old Russia and the 'Nineties: we had with that was low brow (Bliss and McCreary) and eyebrow (Mr. Coward) songs you listen to (Martin Liddle) and songs you dance to (Paul Taylor): realism (the "Hotel" sketch and Mission Work"); and supernaturalism (Mr. Meek): Wisecracks (Carl Watson) otherwise cracks (Pat Macaskill); and John Carrad handy for entertainment during the dance.

The opening chorus began rather timidly: apart from Paul Taylor and Hilary Henderson, who looked affable, the singers seemed a little frightened: but they soon warmed to their work and sang "You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming." with an unction that would have delighted the heart of Freud.

The Can-Can which followed gave us an expurgated version of what roused the animal passions of our grand-parents.

Carl Watson appeared [unclear: familiar] role—a nervous young man in a raincoat telling us about tho W.C. of the S.I.

The "Bathroom Tap" contained an anachronism—there are now no landlords in Russia. The modern Slav, confronted with the situation shown, would ring up the People's Commissar for Bathroom Taps, and have the [unclear: matter] attended to immediately. It also contained capitalist propaganda: "Someone has turned the tap on to watch the water running. He has become tired, and gone away." Otherwise we enjoyed this sketch immensely.

Sending Home the Bacon.

The piece de resistance. "Fumed Oak," gave us Noel Coward in an un-Cowardian vein. It is a wish-fulfilment play for worms who would like to turn. Doug Edwards, as the worm, acted amusingly for a quarter of an hour before he spoke a line, and Berys Ball, as the worm's unworthy offspring, had a sniff that was a pleasure to hear. We liked her as the glamour girl in "Brave New Zealand." but we liked her even more as that horrid little school-child. Marie McWilliams had a difficult part, made more so by a bit of the ' breakfast bacon going down the wrong way. Her coughing misdirected the sympathy of the audience, who gained the impression she wan playing a worn out consumptive. Luckily, the port wine, however, fixed the bacon, and we got on to the right track again. She played the crabby housewife well, but her threats, prayers, and entreaties to her deserting spouse were not convincing.

Geraldine Kean as the mother-in-law had an excellent whine, but did not seem sufficiently "leathery." The vegetables on her hat were kindly lent by Miss Maysmor, who walled in the wings as an understandably neglected baby.

Most of the attention of the audience is directed on the husband, so it is not unfair to the others to give Doug Edwards special praise. The audience will remember for a long time his "And your A1 bloody sauce!"

The Singers.

We are lucky to have two singers of the calibre of Martin Liddle and Paul Taylor. Their voices need no praise here, but a Revue song needs something more than a good [unclear: voice] Liddie's breezy gestures (especially in "Largo al Factotum") and Taylor's engaging presence supply that something.

Guy Bliss did not belle ills reputation as a comedian in setting the tempo for the show and making, it go with [unclear: eclat] and (as the Russians say) a "Woops Daddy!"

—H.W.G.