Gender confusion. What more can you ask for, for the perfect night out? A talking but sadly flightless, parrot, you say, deft punch lines (even those delivered by a silent hook), and a spiteful goat? They’re all there, in the brilliant Footlights production of Treasure Island, directed by Harry Michell.

Robert Louis Stevenson wouldn’t recognise his book and Andrew Brock’s mother wouldn’t recognise her son. Where there’s a villain, a dame cannot be far away and the ravishing Andrew delivered in abundance. He somehow fell just the right side of ridiculous as an unashamed nurse in a hoop skirt with a canon firing sweets and a satirical catchphrase.

In fact, the cast were all, man, woman and parrot alike, suitably at home in tights. As for the “breasted boy”, Lucie Shorthouse, as Jim Hawkins sang marvellously, and rose to the heights of tragic pathos, staring at a small pile of sand on the stage, and reducing the audience to tears with those two despairing words “my hourglass”. Together, Shorthouse and Forbes, the socially awkward parrot, formed the perfect, less than dynamic, duo. In their quest to save the world from being drowned by the bitter Long John Silver the two survive horrible almost unimaginable tortures; even interpretive dance.

I’d like to say I was rooting for good to triumph over evil throughout but my heart was stolen by a one-legged Long John Silver (George Potts) who bravely admitted his own limitations: “hurdles, cattle-grids and a successful marriage to a Beatle”. It occurred to me that Potts had refused to undergo an amputation for the sake of his art, but his commitment to maniacal laughter was unwavering. That and an entire song based around the phrase “Evil’s afoot” made him shine like a freshly minted piece of eight.

Amongst all the slick lines and incredible songs, Michael Campbell seems to hold the plot together. His is a dominant presence; even when dead. With an incredible script and obviously enthusiastic actors, one may wrongly assume a play is sorted. But the music and the set deserve huge credit. Jeff Carpenter composed some fantastic music and the orchestra gave the evening its lively feel from the start. It is almost impossible to describe Gillean Denny’s achievement with the set design. The highlight amongst an impressive array had to be the ship which could be adapted from an inside view to a side on one, even during scenes and even whilst actors climbed/fought across it.

Phil Wang, Adam Lawrence and Jonny Lennard have written a fantastic show. Those of you venturing onto the island should be warned that Rosa Robson, with her excitement at the prospect of “a magic carpet of gold and commitment” and “a pony made of diamonds and feelings”, is not as sugar-coated as she may seem. Though for reasons of delicacy, I simply cannot explain why in print. I was left with a broad smile on my face but, more importantly, with a desire to know who gets to keep the voodoo doll of the health minister.