'The Merry Wives of Windsor' review

Shakespeare's silliest comedy is knocked up with garish verve in Fiona Laird's RSC production, which is loud, colourful, and about as subtle as a willy warmer from Santa. This suburban romp farce was basically a creaky vehicle for his hit character Sir John Falstaff (the world's most popular obese drunken con-man). It's vulgar, it's silly, and this show cranks those qualities up to the max in a show that's dripping with mock Tudor and 'burbz bling.

If it didn't have such a brilliant cast it would be completely awful. But it has the excellent David Troughton as Falstaff, a man who can not only act through a massive fat suit accessorised with a dangling fake penis, but even more impressively, climb into a wheelie bin while wearing it. And it has the super-excellent Rebecca Lacey and Beth Cordingley as the wives, definitely more Essex than Windsor, strutting their way to flamboyant triumph over their dodgy, drunken and clearly deluded foe.

Is it merry? Not quite: it's too heartless for that. But it is loud, proud and in-yer-face. Crack open a babycham and enjoy.