Theatre review: Thark, Park Theatre, London

Thanks to Feydeau and his followers, we tend to think of farce as the most sex-fuelled of genres, full of randy bourgeois types, bent on bedding one another, who desperately struggle to keep up a front of respectability as the frenzy mounts and their reputations disintegrate with a hurtling, remorseless logic. The improprieties are a good deal less priapic and the pace considerably gentler in the work of Ben Travers,…

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