Nell Gwynn

A silken King Charles spaniel steals the show. But let’s get serious. When one of the actors in the 17th-century all-male King’s Company hears that a rival London theatre company has an ‘actor-ess’ on the stage, he is dismayed. ‘It will be the death of theatre!’ says Kynaston, who plays all the women’s parts, with the aid of a padded bra. But King Charles II , who adores women almost as much as the theatre (and spaniels), has seen actoresses in Paris and decreed that London should follow suit. Then cross-dressing Kynaston discovers that said actor-ess is playing Desdemona, and baring all, for real, to a rapturous audience, and is utterly appalled. ‘We trade in magic!’ he declares. ‘We are honed, groomed, athletes of the imagination. And these women – what training have they had, eh?’

Not a lot, admittedly, but Nell Gwynn is a quick learner. Or so Jessica Swale would have us believe in her entertainingly anachronistic, deliciously playful play, in which restoration romp meets Carry On King Charlie with a touch of Cinderella to boot.

Nell, a sometime whore turned orange-seller, catches the eye of Charles Hart, the company’s leading man. A not wholly disinterested Hart offers a quick lesson in how to project her voice, then stretches his arms in histrionic attitudes expressing terror, anger and finally despair. Nell’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Are you quite all right?’ asks Hart.

‘I’m just acting, sir,’ grins Nell.

‘Well, blow me down – I thought it was real,’ says Hart.

So Nell joins the company. And a star is born. As is a brand-new style of acting.

For this play is also a love letter to theatre, with the action swivelling seamlessly from backstage to front – and a homage to Nell, whom the King fell in love with at first sight and set up in great style as his favourite mistress, going on to have two children with her. Swale makes it a genuine love match. No wonder the King’s famous last words were, ‘Don’t let poor Nelly starve.’

Gemma Arterton is perfectly cast in Christopher Luscombe’s spirited show, filled with song and dance and saucy sausage jokes. She beguiles, she flirts, she charms, as shameless as she is irresistible. In her first performance for the company, having forgotten her lines, out of sheer desperation she bursts into a bawdy song (‘I can dance, I can sing… And I can do the other thing’) remembered from childhood. The audience – imaginary and real – are captivated. Michele Dotrice (Betty in Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em) is a hoot as her dresser. And the spaniel upstages them both!

Until 30 April at the Apollo Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue, London W1: 0330-333 4809, www.apollotheatrelondon.co.uk