It’s a vermouth universally acknowledged that liquor and literature go hand in hand. From F. Scott Fitzgerald’s champagne-soaked soirées to Dylan Thomas’s pints-and-poetry, the written word has always flowed a little freer with a drink in hand. In fact, Ernest Hemingway famously quipped, “Write drunk, edit sober.” Plied and Prejudice takes that tradition, shakes it with Regency romance, adds a twist of mischief, and makes it a double (entendre). It’s an intoxicating evening out on the ton. 

The action takes place on a traverse stage, (a long, narrow performance space with the audience sitting either side). It’s less a catwalk (though Mr Wickham does his best Zoolander impression, as he struts and smoulders down it) and more of a 100-metre track. The five performers take on 25 characters between them, and Austen was a fan of a group chat. That means that the athletic actors hurtle, slide and throw themselves down the narrow slip in order to transform themselves into the person they were just talking to. It’s an impressive, and hilarious, feat; and one that leaves the audience (and presumably the cast) in stitches. It’s a masterclass in comic agility. 

The characters they conjure from a hat, a walking stick and a headless cardboard cutout are ridiculous and riveting in equal measure. Mrs Bennet (Emma Andreatta) is not only portrayed as a meddling mum, but also a weather-controlling witch. While Mr Collins (Andrew Macmillan) slithers and spits his way through the crowd like a venomous snake. It’s revolting but undeniably hysterical - which Lizzie Bennet (Brigitte Freeme) can vouch for, it made her break character several times! This isn’t a dig, it’s thrilling to watch this talented troupe contort their bodies and throw their voices in order to make each other (and us) laugh. And adds to the raw, unfiltered and playful energy of the performance overall.