WHEN attending a top rated show, for example The Phantom of the Opera, one would expect a slick, polished production, starring actors that know their lines inside out.

You would be startled and perhaps a little annoyed if the Phantom himself was sans facemask, wandering around the stage in a casual sweater and sandals, burbling miscellaneous Lloyd-Webber lyrics to himself under his breath while contemplating a schoolboy rendition of Chopsticks on the church organ.

It was with certain indignation then, that I left the Marr's Bar feeling that I'd just sat through a rehearsal. It's not that Howard Read and Jimmy Carr were not funny, they were. They just hadn't finished writing their shows.

Both were unabashed that their routines were being prepared for the Edinburgh Festival and tested upon the guinea pigs in Worcester.

Howard Read's innovative work with interactive computer animation did have its moments, but the com-edic flow was repeatedly halted when he all too often informed us that he "hadn't animated this bit yet".

Call me picky, but people had paid £10 to see this show, they should expect a finished product.

Jimmy Carr's less complex act did not suffer as much from his lack of preparation, thanks to his extraordinarily quick wit and improv skills. His tendency to push the boundaries of taste caused a few sharp intakes of breath, but his quickfire jokes hit their target most of the time.

This was an entertaining show, but Worcester audiences may not take kindly to being viewed as second-rate test subjects for the comedy bigwigs in Edinburgh.

Phill Tromans.