It is not a good sign when the word search puzzle in the programme for a festive show asks young theatre-goers to look out for the likes of "acumen", "bourgeoisie" and "enterprise". Nevertheless, such terms give due warning of the leaden tirade, against the industrialisation of agriculture, the rise of the giant supermarket and other issues obviously dear to the heart of the average 10-year-old, that is to follow.
What is particularly galling is that the company behind this mess is none other than the acclaimed London Bubble, which so delighted audiences with its infectiously enjoyable Ali Baba at Greenwich last year. Jonathan Petherbridge once more writes and co-directs and, rather like Sandra the Goose in this story, has entirely lost the golden egg touch.
The plot, of Jack returning with his beanstalk wealth all spent and signing Gertrude the cow up to a punishing milk quota, is needlessly convoluted yet aimless, and entirely lost the youngsters at the performance I attended. "It's behind you!" shouted one optimistic soul, in the vain hope of interrupting yet another meandering scene, in which even Simon Thomson's Dame was uncharacteristically subdued.
Such travails are as nothing when compared to the baffling events in the Albany's Circus of Dreams. While it is hard to condemn outright a show that boasts the immortal lyric "Are you a car or are you a crustacean?", such moments of - one fears unintentional - hilarity are limited.
Writer/director John Joe Turner has come up with a ludicrously pretentious surreal circus satire, whose target, not unlike Petherbridge's, appears to be today's isolated, consumerist world. And thus we have a character throwing open a door and announcing: "It's no ordinary wardrobe, it's the Circus of Dreams." Inside, you've guessed it, is an opera singer spouting Carmen. To be avoided at all costs.
Mother Goose And The....Wolf
