"It's a queer world." The line gets an early laugh in the D'Oyly Carte production of HMS Pinafore, as well it might - after all, the stage is filled with a male chorus in fetching sailor suits, who have just skipped through one of Lindsay Dolan's neat little dance routines, and are soon to prove how well they can sing while doing press-ups. But don't let that fool you into thinking that Martin Duncan's 1994 staging, an old company favourite and bright as a P&O ferry advert, is anything but good, clean fun.

Duncan is no stranger to heavyweight productions: he has also staged the premiere of Harrison Birtwistle's Last Supper. Yet he treats this mix of satire and enjoyable nonsense with the lightest of touches. Revived by Lucy Jameson and snappilyconducted by Andrew Massey, the production knows exactly when to send itself up and by how much, and manages to be knowing without becoming smug.

HMS Pinafore has always been one of Gilbert and Sullivan's big successes. It was their first international hit, catching the imagination of American fans who made its one-liners into the Fast Show catchphrases of their day. It contains some of Sullivan's best music, and a good deal of skilful parody of grand opera: listen to the Verdian growl from the orchestra before Little Buttercup's confession.

It is also a vehicle for some vintage Gilbertian satire on class and politics (what else?), centring on Sir Joseph Porter, the landlubbing First Lord of the Admiralty. At the Savoy, Sam Kelly's well-judged, sneakily comic performance makes him inept but not completely harmless. The rest of the cast is more than decent, too. Tom McVeigh is the supercilious Captain and Alison Rae Jones sings sweetly as Josephine, although she is inclined to push her voice too hard. Della Jones, who brings few traces of her former operatic tones to Buttercup, nevertheless knows how to hold the stage. Sophie-Louise Dann turns in an unrelentingly comic turn as Porter's spinsterly cousin, supported by a twittering, tweedy bevy of aunts and nieces.

Then there is the hero, Ralph Rackstraw, sung with a slightly bland yet pleasant-sounding tenor by Joseph Shovelton. Why the chorus are so keen to glorify him as a robust Englishman, when he is introduced with a weedy little song about a nightingale, is just one of those Gilbert and Sullivan things. Yes, it's all camp as Christmas - but rather a good giggle with it.

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