What the world really needs right now is more sparkly cabaret to distract us from the horror of everything else. Enter: ’How to Win Against History’, a diverting musical evening which takes a turn around the life and times of real-life Victorian aristocrat Henry ‘I’m lonely but rich… and a cross-dresser’ Paget.
This unusual Marquess of Anglesey burnt through the Paget fortune in an orgy of theatricality, touring Europe and even converting the family chapel into a theatre. His ‘regrettable’ exploits provide the perfect excuse for a second orgy of theatricality in Seiriol Davies’s joyous show. There are sequins. There are high kicks. There are witty songs about being yourself, narcissism, and what the hell ‘normal’ is. All the fundamental questions of musical theatre, answered with unusual original flair.
The three variously coiffured performers (wigged and powdered musician; Victorian short back and sides; winged helmet and lots of eyeliner) have about as much fun as it’s possible to have with a keyboard, a captive audience and a knack for rhyming couplets, dropping growly asides on class, power, sexuality and all that jazz which imperial Britain was so vastly hypocritical about. (If you want to giggle at original satirical music that rhymes ‘Eton’ with ‘Pull up a peasant to put your feet on’ then you’ve come to precisely the right place.)
What I loved most about watching this was the talent and originality of its performer-creators (Davies is the bright spark responsible for the music and lyrics; his excellent wingmen Matthew Blake and Dylan Townley helped devise it all). Their schtick is fresh and intelligent and so very easy to watch. It’s terribly English, ludicrously fabulous and its rhyming genius has more than a twist of Gilbert & Sullivan.
’How to Win Against History’ is an artfully embellished anecdote, not a full-on Victorian Life and Times, meaning it never outstays its 90-minute runtime. There’s something tragic about Paget – who died penniless in Monte Carlo aged 29 – which is not quite explored. But this delicious little three-man show has the all the piquant spangles you need to turn shit reality into ironic theatrical gold.