I told my granddaughters (aged 4 and 2, the younger making a theatrical debut) that if I didn't like the show I'd huff and I'd puff and I'd blow the set down. They told me to shut up and eat my ice-cream.
I knew the stage pigsty would be fairly safe from critical demolition: George Stiles (music) and Anthony Drewe (book and lyrics) are very good with animals, from Honk! and The Wind in the Willows (collaborating with Julian Fellowes, not Alan Bennett) through to their porky main course in the delightful Betty Blue Eyes.
Drewe himself has directed the show, which was commissioned by the Singapore Repertory Theatre in 2012 and has already been seen in America, Finland and China; a new cast has settled in for a day-time summer season at the Palace, which is way too big for it, so make sure you sit near the front.
The three perky porkers – Bar, Bee and Q – with a spicy sauce, are leaving home at Mother Pig's (Alison Jiear) suggestion to build their own lives, stand on their own four trotters. She packs them off with a pig-nic.
They are kitted out in pink jump suits with woolly patches, fabric ears and curly tails; Bar (Taofique Folarin) is a bit of wild boy, Bee (Leanne Jones) is environmentally aware and looking to build "green"; and Q (Daniel Buckley) wears specs, reads books and wisely urges love and cooperation.
Trouble is, that old Big Bad Wolf (Simon Webbe in black leathers with fur slashes and insets) ate their dad – they don't know this – and fancies more pork belly in his tummy. He's not so much wicked, though, as a bit misunderstood; yeh, right, he's only bringing home the bacon, squire, only doing his job, and whatever else comes naturally.
He finds his way to the building site where the pigs, with the ingenious help of designer Jason Denvir, have erected structures of straw and sticks – with a Stomp-like percusssion number to set the mood – and the more durable brick bolthole that opens out spaciously, and colourfully, to accommodate the happy family reunion at the end.
This is not a spoiler: a certain amount of rescue and entrapment has to be achieved before the wolf comes down the chimney…and, well, let's put it this way…he's not as welcome as Father Christmas.
We're all done (and so is the wolf) in 55 minutes, and there are several funky, bluesy numbers on the way. But, oh dear, the curse of taped musical accompaniment means scratchy, uneven sound levels. Any kids show – anything in life, come to that – is better with a band.
But I honestly don't think my little companions cared a hoot about that. They were too busy clapping along, waving their souvenir flags and grooving with the wolf; don't think they're going to be vegetarians, somehow…