Michael Frayn's farce about theatrical life is 100 per cent guaranteed to have you in fits and provides the right antidote to the war.

This Royal National Theatre production of the 21-year-old play is a timeless classic with its no-holds-barred lampooning of theatrical life.

A third-rate theatre company is putting on a farce called Nothing On, which seems to be about nothing more than sardines.

We come across the company as it is finalising its technical rehearsal in readiness for opening night.

The actors haven't learnt their lines properly and don't know their cues that well and the cast includes a veteran actor who is a drunk, one who passes out at the sight of blood, another veteran who is only in the show because she has the cash and a randy director who is sleeping with the juvenile lead and the stage manager.

And while this farce is being staged another is happening backstage as tensions rise, secrets are outed and the whole company gradually falls apart.

Frayn's eye for detail never deserts him and his time in the theatre has been well spent. He knows how actors think and move, how they need love and affection and motivation.

Then he adds his own exaggerations and the result is five-star comedy, chock full of misunderstandings and more slamming doors, climbing in and out of windows and going into wrong rooms than any two Feydeau farces put together.

This cast, which includes former EastEnder Paul Bradley, Testament of Youth star Cheryl Campbell, Heartbeat and Darling Buds star Philip Franks and former Dr Who Sylvester McCoy, is excellent.

Each gives 110 per cent but there are no individuals here. Everyone works a fully integrated ensemble that gives a seamless flow of comedy that leaves you breathless.

Director Jeremy Sams has welded them into one comic force that hits hard and fast. The timing is superb and the physical side, running up and down stairs and generally falling about, would, I think, require an ambulance and a doctor permanently on standby.

Cheryl Campbell throws off her usual glamour to become the dowdy and angry Dottie and Paul Bradley may keep the outrageous shirt from EastEnders but otherwise is unrecognisable.

Philip Franks is altogether nastier than he ever was in Darling Buds or Heartbeat and Sylvester McCoy is madder here then in Dr Who.

Tilly Gaunt spends all her time in her underwear and brings the naive and dotty juvenile lead splendidly alive.

Noises Off, in this production, contains no faults, no flaws. This is a comic masterpiece that should not be missed.

Tickets: 01273 328488.