Here Come The Girls (Anastacia, Chaka Khan, Lulu) - Royal Concert Hall

Three distinctive voices and three very distinctive ladies here.

With a combined age of about 156, it's hard for them to peddle the "girls" myth.

Yet mere girls in the true sense of the world just wouldn't do this show justice. You need three strong women.

Almost every number a team effort, the show also played to their individual strengths.

I'm still not a fan of Lulu Kennedy-Cairns OBE (61). She's been plugging away since the mid-60s and although she earned some respect tonight she was the weak link among some very strong voices.

Of course there was the American, Chaka Khan (56), best known for the late 70s hit I'm Every Woman, the girls' curtain-raiser. She was the graceful elder stateswoman of the trio. Feel For You and Respect were among her big solo numbers and yet while she wowed with her disco and up-tempo catalogue, sadly her wonderful voice became somewhat indistinct for many of the soul classics.

The lovely Anastacia (a mere 41) proved the brightest star.

How she sprinted, jumped and moved around the stage in those heels remains a mystery.

Taking a lead in Dancing in the Street and (rather cheekily) Relight my Fire she was also allowed to perform her own biggest hits solo: Left Outside Alone and I'm Outta Love brought the house down.

Together, the girls sang along and danced to their favourite songs down the decades. An all-too-short disco medley, a meaty Motown set, the dancers and a couple of anthems set off this well thought-out show perfectly.

But I've never really been a fan of that loud, little Lulu lady. Perhaps that's because they always get her to sing that Shout song – and so she did, to one of the biggest cheers of the night.

But it didn't work for me.

W.A.S.P. - Rock City

This was a gig to blow away the cobwebs, with an adoring crowd lapping up every second of a turbo-charged set from Blackie Lawless and the boys.

Granted, he's the only original band member from the group that set up in 1982, but he carries the show, works the crowd, plays the guitar and leads the non-stop vocals.

The world tour they're on is to promote the new album, Babylon – and the title track, Babylon's Burning, went down a storm with the crowd. With its overtones of comment on what's happening in the Middle East, its video backdrop blew us away.

A clever addition that suits the more intimate venue, the projected backdrop from previous concerts gave a real stadium atmosphere at times, even though it was in danger of leaving us somewhat confused as to Blackie's travelling through time to bring us favourites from years gone by.

He stood on stage, slightly less coiffeured than I'd expected (without the trademark highlights too), and wringing wet by the end of an exhausting 90 minutes.

Opening the set with On Your Knees, wowing us with Love Machine and slipping in a couple from the Electric Circus album, this was a reminder that while some of the bands that found success alongside W.A.S.P., these guys keep on going from strength to strength. Blind in Texas as the encore was the icing on the cake.

Not quite as much codpiece and cavorting as in the past, maybe, but the set moved incredibly quickly and the evening just flew by.

A Christmas Chuckle - Royal Concert Hall

An early reminder of what Christmas is all about, though not among the Chuckles' best, I'm afraid.

A jam-packed house was absolutely thrilled to see the boys back in town – and with a brand new show.

But there was precious little of the skits we've come to love over the years.

This time there were more mini 'production numbers' with long legged dancers and singing to herald Christmas.

We marvelled at the magician (did he REALLY cut his assistant's head off?) and enjoyed a seasonal neon puppet show (much better than the usual post-interval offering, by the way).

And yet there was something missing. This show fell somewhere between a full-blown panto and a true Chuckle Brothers stage show, like the recent River Rother exploits.

Barry and Paul were superb, of course, with Paul as Ebeneezer learning from Gerroutofit's Christmases past, present and future that he really must learn to enjoy the festivities. No Slacking made a perfect dame and the supporting cast pulled their weight beautifully – even Stinky Walker, who, we were told at the end had become a father half way through the second half, although it didn't show!

There was lots of audience participation, even some kids asked up on stage, and a clever finale of "If I were not upon this stage" which showed off the team in the very best light.

Good fun nonetheless, and perhaps a curtain-raiser to the Chuckles' anniversary tour planned for next year? Let's hope for their more traditional fare.

Adolf Hitler, My Part in His Downfall - Theatre Royal

In the end there are no winners or losers, just the living and the dead.

Yet those who know anything at all about Spike Milligan would realise that although dead now, he was ultimately both a winner and a loser.

Putting the material of four volumes of his war memoirs on stage in this thought-provoking adaptation gives a living, breathing feeling of a conscript’s life in the services.

Putting Spike in the first person in the safe hands of Sholto Morgan (right) in his professional debut was a master stroke.

His Chaplin-esque versatility led the performers of Battery D as they endure life in North Africa, Italy and on to Berlin.

Thirty wonderful revue numbers combine with chilling insights into the horror of war, expertly interwoven such that each change of pace hits home – right between the eyes.

There are some great gags – mostly one-liners – brilliantly quick fire and each dropped into the commentary in exactly the right place to make every word count.

The warning on the cover of the programme was dead right: the performance does indeed contain barrack room humour. But when you’re covering real life like this you can’t avoid it, and it certainly doesn’t offend.

The programme itself was also a comedic master stroke. Not your usual Theatre Royal affair. More a newsprint pamphlet, helpfully inscribed “produced in complete conformity with the required War Office paper economy standards.

Very Spike. And like the officer said, “it’ll all be over by Christmas”. Sadly, no one could tell them which one.

Honeymoon hold-ups

Not many people get to book three honeymoons – but we did.
More than a year before our big day the church was booked, the reception was booked, the vicar was booked, and yes, the honeymoon was booked.
But that year the world was plagued with terrorism and civil disturbance – especially in the places we wanted to visit.

Picture this: Pharaohs and the sphinx, pyramids and camels. It all sounded like the perfect romantic dream.
A Nile cruise in mid-May, taking in the tombs of the ancients as well as a top-notch newlyweds suite and the best view that money could buy.
It was to be the holiday of a lifetime.
The nice people at Voyage Jules Verne were falling over themselves to make it special.
Then, in November, we heard about the tourists being massacred. Sixty people were killed by gunmen at a temple in an incident which halted the tourist trade for months.

It was time to visit the travel agent in search of another romantic break.
Picture this: Bali. The mystic east. Beaches, temples, wildlife and sunshine.
It all sounded like the perfect romantic dream.
It was the best time of the year for Indonesia and we managed to get the honeymoon suite at the very hotel we had our eye on in the brochure.
It was to be the holiday of a lifetime.
There was a little tension on the islands over the New Year period, but nothing to worry about.

We were married on May 9 on the sunniest day of the year. Our first dance was Have I Told You Lately That I Love You, followed by Perfect Day, which it was. Then a week to relax before flying out for ten days in the sun.

But midweek, news came through that riots were spreading across Jakarta, the capital, after a student was shot by police.
Buildings were set alight and shops were looted. It didn’t look good, but we sat tight at home.
The following day, two days before we were due to fly, the phone call from tour operator British Airways finally came. The Foreign Office had stopped all flights.

You can only imagine the anguish and tears. Our honeymoon cancelled: twice.

So it was time to visit the travel agent in search of another romantic break.
Picture this: Turkey. Land of the mosque, friendly locals, apple tea and ancient monuments.
Our stay in Kalkan was to be the holiday of a lifetime. And it was.
Thanks to the expertise of Intertravel in Nottingham, where the manager told us: “You’ll love this place.”

We did. We went back again and again.

Kes, Theatre Royal

A strong performance by the lead carried this story of the gritty north through from start to finish.

Perfect casting saw Stefan Butler throw himself into an un-self conscious re-telling of this tale of an anguished childhood.

Young Billy seems to be the runt of the litter, getting the rough end of the deal at home, at school and even on his paper round. Thieving and antisocial behaviour by the disaffected youth of the area only drags him down.

And yet his devotion to Kes, the kestrel he took as a chick and brought up and then trained, gives a new insight into his sensitive character with even his teacher taking heart from the extra layer to Billy's psyche.

Clever lighting and a carefully marshalled company revealed scenes within scenes and we learned much about what makes our hero tick.

The first night audience sat for the most part in awe as the story unfolded before them.

Their silence punctuated by laughter – sometimes uncomfortable – prompted by the shafts of humour in a few choice lines that strike home from our own childhood experience.

It was good to see familiar faces among the cast: The Bill's Mike Burnside was more substantial than I recall, while Daniel Casey (Troy from Midsomer Murders) was much trimmer than he looked on television.

The director chooses to work with local children for the classroom and school scenes – and those from Bramcote Business and Enterprise School made the grade.

I last saw the film and read the book more than 25 years ago – it was a requirement for school.

This version made for a much more enjoyable experience and the two-hour-plus running time past far too quickly. Absorbing, thought provoking and ultimately tragic, this tale offers little hope for those real working classes of days gone by.

Oldest newlyweds cancel honeymoon

Oldest newlyweds cancel honeymoon
... from the Torquay Herald Express

Torbay's oldest newlyweds, have had to cancel their luxury honeymoon.

Les Atwell, 94, and his 87-year-old bride Sheila will instead be unpacking their suitcases when they should have been heading off for a 14-day Mediterranean cruise from Southampton.

Sheila fell ill soon after their wedding on Wednesday with a tummy bug.

"It must have been the excitement," said Les.

'Karen Carpenter, I feel so close to you'

'Karen Carpenter, I feel so close to you'
... from the Stoke Sentinel

A KAREN Carpenter tribute artist says she has been living the life of her idol – right down to developing anorexia.

The legendary Carpenters singer died from heart failure in 1983, aged 32, believed to be a complication of her anorexia.

And as professional musician Julie Roberts – who has a similar singing style to Karen – began to perform more and more Carpenters songs, she found her life began to parallel the tragic singer.

Then when Julie started taking laxatives to lose weight – just like Karen – she realised matters were getting out of hand. The 5ft 10ins singer plummeted from a healthy 12 stone, to just eight stone.

In the end, it was only when she temporarily stopped singing Carpenters songs that she was able to quit taking laxatives and get her weight loss under control.

Vampires Rock, Newark Palace Theatre

With flame-throwers, blood, fireworks and bats, this show is something of a shameless romp through some top rock anthems, with the music of Queen, Billy Idol, Rainbow, AC/DC, Bonnie Tyler, and even good old Suzi Quatro.

The show lent itself well to the talents of Meat Loaf tribute artist Steve Steinman (the man who dreamed it all up) who - apart from appearing completely bemused by a quiet audience during the first half - gave a solid and passionate performance as Baron von Rockula, owner of the Live and Let Die club, who is searching for a new bride.

The evergreen Toyah Willcox as The Devil Queen in foxy skin-tight red leather is a powerhouse, screaming on to the stage and putting all her energy into hits like She Sells Sanctuary and Live and Let Die.

Toyah turns out to be the star turn, full of energy, vitality and cheekiness. Although she's not the female lead. That's reserved for Emily Clark as Pandora Honeybox, who becomes the object of Rockula's attentions, annoying his hissing, jealous queen.

Some of the signposting is rather tongue in cheek, when characters utter "it must be the final countdown", to usher in the old Europe song, or "I think you give love a bad name" (Bon Jovi).

But the audience IS there to have fun and eventually enter Steinman's world, with a little panto banter between stage and punters developing. A sneaky section in the second half invites the audience to stand - and that's when Newark finally got into full swing, let its hair down and enjoyed a rocking good night.

Cinderella, Newark Palace Theatre

I'M a convert! For more than 40 years I somehow managed to avoid the ballet but this was a magical introduction.

European Ballet mixed sparkle, humour, tradition and – of course – elegant dance in this incredibly accessible production.

Prokofiev's famous score was the glue that held together the much-loved tale with sparse props ensuring the dance told the story.

From lowly Cinders (Scilla Cattafesta) dancing gracefully with a broom when she fears she won't be able to get to the royal palace, we see her transformed into the belle of the ball after she was the only one to show an old beggar some kindness.

For many in a packed house, the ugly sisters were a star turn, wonderfully conveying their mood swings between petulance, envy, excitement and just plain grumpiness. Ania Thormeyer and Felizia Roth's ham-fisted footwork as they took dance lessons before the ball brought comedy – and some laugh-out-loud moments – to the show.

The ensemble dance after the handsome prince (Vincent Cabot) and Cinderella fell in love at the ball was the most spectacular, lending itself well to the intimacy of the venue.

Happily, Cinders forgave the ugly sisters for their cruelty and this faithful retelling left the audience with a very happy ending.