Chicago Sheffield Lyceum

Outraged by the media frenzy which saw two accused murderesses controversially let off, she wrote a hard-hitting commentary on the cult of celebrity criminals.

Only in 1975 was Chicago restaged as the raunchy, nylon-clad musical we know today, now the longest-running American musical on Broadway.

The UK national tour production is a stylish, swinging spectacle.

After shooting lover Fred Casely (Francis Foreman) for leaving her, Roxie Hart (Hayley Tamaddon) tells husband Amos (Neil Ditt) he was a burglar.

Doting Amos takes the fall for his wayward wife, but soon learns the truth and drops her in it.

Roxie is jailed awaiting her murder trial, where she meets double murderess Velma Kelly (Sophie Carmen-Jones) and prison warden Mama Morton (Sam Bailey).

Morton has sweet talked top lawyer Billy Flynn (John Partridge) into defending Velma — the plan, to get her off the hook by making her a tabloid darling.

But Roxie catches Flynn’s eye as a better prospect and he works his media magic on her instead.

She becomes the toast of society as Velma’s light fades — but only until a bigger crime pushes Roxie off the front pages.

So she announces that she’s having a baby, spurred into the desperate lie by her cellmate’s execution.

But can she and Flynn pull off the ruse with enough razzle dazzle to spare Roxie the rope?

It’s a show which pulls on every heartstring, evoking fear, sympathy, hope and despair (and, it must be said, lust).

Seeing ex-soap actors’ names next to lead stage roles isn’t always welcome, but West End veteran Partridge has the chops to pull it off.

Formerly EastEnders’ Christian Clarke, Partridge has also played about half of Cats’ male cast and been that show’s lead dancer.

His Billy Flynn is a sight and sound to behold — slick and suave with outstanding vocal oomph.

Tamaddon too — a former Emmerdale and Corrie star — is every inch the stage star, her Hart a real loveable rogue.

X Factor winner Sam Bailey makes for a mean Mama Morton, belting out her boisterous numbers.

And A D Richardson really thrills as high society reporter Mary Sunshine — but that’s all I’ll say about that (you’ll see).

The dance company too are excellent, carrying off the dazzling choreography to pinpoint perfection.

In place of a set we see the orchestra, arranged in raked rows behind the actors.

It seems the perfect visual accompaniment to a story all about the jazz age, in which period costume is swapped out for provocative lingerie.

The effect is a show all about the height of cabaret which is itself a cabaret — and it captures the mood of prohibition perfectly.