THE story is inspirational. Not the actual narrative, a mainly episodic, zany collection of tall feline tales that have about as much profundity as a Bowie classic. Amazing, but what does it actually mean?

No, the tale of getting said musical on stage, amid barks of derision, replaced swiftly by global purrs of acclaim and, more importantly, the ker-ching of cold hard cash, lots and lots of it, which has kept this show and many others afloat for decades.

Twenty-one years after it leapt onto the London stage, it closed there and now we in the provinces have the opportunity of lapping up the Lloyd Webber/Mackintosh/ Eliot cream. It is an utter joy. Sure the story is silly, the language gloriously archaic at times, the concept a real cat among the pigeons of serious theatre. It gained “1,000 out of ten” from one of its newest and youngest fans.

The look is exactly the heavily madeup, leg-warmered 1980s sensation it should be, but with lights a go-go, oodles of theatre magic and a lion’s share of very talented performers.

Their background is mainly from dance – Gillian Lynne’s original choreography is incredible, but very demanding and relentless. Chrissie Cartwright is credited with being the “recreator of original direction and choreography”

and this production is a fitting homage to the original show.

It all looks very West End (translation: lots and lots of money has been spent on it).

Among the glorious cossies, that of Bustopher Jones, the well-fed bon viveur, was a doozie – I yearned for tweed and got slightly clumsy fake fur, but the rest were splendid.

Oliver Savile is a rock star Rum Tum Tugger, Joseph Poulton an astounding dancer (the very Magical Mr Mistoffelees) while Joanna Ampil nailed Memory as Grizabella, bringing a roar of approval from the audience.

The choosiest of theatregoers couldn’t help but be utterly won over by this feline phenomenon.

Until June 8. Box office 0844-871-3022 and at gtickets.com/sunderland

Review: Sarah Scott