The audience included a plethora of Wodehouseans, and Society members made happy noises as they spotted each other in the lobby. Patrick and Nancy Wodehouse were in attendance, and a full complement of Cazalets had come to root for Hal. The gorgeous Joanna Lumley was also amongst those present, and there were several recognisable faces, but we were too shy to ask their names.

The Wigmore Hall (built in 1901) is an elegant concert venue with wonderful acoustics – perfect for the Plummy songs we had come to hear. If those further back could not see the stage very well because of the heads in front of them, this deficiency was mitigated by the aural delights of the evening. Still, given all the dancing and sight gags, causing much craning of necks, it occurred to this writer that the Wigmore might do well to consider sloping the hall’s floor so that better views could be provided.

But the point of the evening was the concert, which was – to understate matters – splendid. We knew we were in for something special the moment the performers stepped onto the stage, looking trés chic – the men attired in correct soup and fish (although a certain husband of mine suspected they were wearing soft-fronted shirts), the women decked out in glittering red (Sylvia) and shimmering grey (Janie) – and opening the programme with a lively version of "Sir Galahad," from Leave It to Jane. After Steven Blier obligingly conveyed some facts about Wodehouse, Kern, and their collaborations, Hal took centre stage, singing "My Castle in the Air" from Miss Springtime. As anybody who has heard Hal sing knows, he has both a superb tenor voice and a versatility that allows him to slide effortlessly between opera and show tunes and be equally at home with either. "My Castle in the Air" provided a perfect showcase for his talent.

Sylvia and Henry then sang "Tell Me All Your Troubles, Cutie" (Miss 1917) with an insouciance that bordered on the comical; some smartly executed dance steps at the end of the piece elicited cheers. They were followed by Hal and Janie, engaging as they sang "You Never Knew About Me" from Oh, Boy! Janie earned laughs as she conveyed the anguish behind such words as: "I was oft kissed ’neath the mistletoe / By small boys excited with tea / If I’d known you existed / I’d have scratched them and resisted, Dear / But I never knew about you / (Oh! The pain of it) / and you never knew about me."

The first half sped by far too quickly as song followed wonderful song: Sylvia finding her men best if they are all "Rolled Into One" (Oh, Boy!); Hal and Sylvia sparkling with a fast and furious rendition of "You’re the Top" (Anything Goes); Janie giving us "The Siren’s Song" (Leave It to Jane) to sweet and haunting effect; Janie and Henry agreeing that "You Can’t Make Love By Wireless" (The Beauty Prize), a song in which we learn "There is nothing girls desire less / Than a cold Marconigram"; Henry and Hal wearing fedoras, braving Brooklyn accents (mostly succeeding), and proving the truth of the song "We’re Crooks" (Miss 1917) by making off with their stools at the end; and Sylvia doing a beautiful rendition of one of my favourite Wodehouse songs, "Go Little Boat" (Miss 1917). All four performed a rousing first-act finale, "Non-Stop Dancing" (The Beauty Prize), which was sung and danced with non-stop energy.

Reviews at intermission were uniformly enthusiastic, and the audience was expecting great things for the second half. We were not disappointed. Hal and Sylvia (the latter now dressed in black) led off with a delightful version of "The Enchanted Train" (Sitting Pretty). On separate sides of the stage – first standing, then sitting, then standing again – the duo conveyed their affection for the title train with all its bumpy rhythm, and drew cheers as they ran into each other’s arms at the end. This was followed by "Shimmy With Me" (The Cabaret Girl), wherein Sylvia demonstrated to an initially aghast Henry the art of shimmying. Henry, alas, received an accidental slap in the face and became tangled in his stool as he was caught up in his lesson, but at the end he was shimmying with the best of them.

The next two songs, although unrelated, were cleverly linked to each other with a spot of dialogue. While Hal mock-dramatically lamented "There Isn’t One Girl" for him (Sitting Pretty), Janie was an interested observer, stopping him only as he started to skulk off the stage in self-pity. Encouraged to share his woes, Hal revealed his sad tale of having loved but lost because he was poor. "Poverty," he sighed, "is the banana skin on the doorstep to romance." This made no difference to Janie, who launched into "If I Ever Lost You" (The Golden Moth). "Think how sad the flowers would be," she sang, "if sunshine went away / Think how sad the bees would feel without a summer day." Seeing the sense in this argument, Hal then imparted some analogies of his own: "Think how a sausage’s hopes would be dash’d / If one day it awoke and miss’d its mash’d / And what grief a steak would feel if it found / That there wasn’t an onion around." These noble sentiments took them into a Viennese waltz, culminating with Hal sweeping up Janie and carrying her off stage. Certain members of the audience burst into loud guffaws during this scene, drawing sharp glances from their mates (I name no names).

"Napoleon," from Have a Heart, was a splendid show-stopper for Henry, who wore a Napoleonic paper hat and employed a broom as a dancing partner. Sylvia then sang "Bill," which most people know from the Kern-Hammerstein musical Showboat. However, any Wodehousean can tell you that it was originally written for (and excised from) the Kern-Bolton-Wodehouse musical Oh, Lady! Lady! Sylvia sang it à la Showboat – atop the piano – but used the original lyrics, and they were, of course, perfect Plum. She did a lovely job, but here I must confess that I missed the pathos and poignancy that the song deserved. Perhaps this is because I have heard Lara Cazalet give it the definitive reading. Indeed, Lara’s "Bill" is so good that in my mind (and that of many other Wodehouseans), no other singer can do it as well.

Next came "Mr. Gravvins – Mr.Gripps" (The Cabaret Girl), a takeoff on the cross-talk acts of music hall days, performed by Hal and Henry in bowler hats. Then Janie and Sylvia took turns telling Hal and Henry to "Wait Till Tomorrow" (Leave It to Jane). Another solo followed: "Cleopatterer" (Leave It to Jane), with Janie’s spot-on singing, dancing, and comic timing all highly appreciated (especially by the husband on my right, who thought she was superb).

As the programme arrived at what Steven Blier called its "Eleven O’Clock Number," he said a few words about the New York Festival of Song, which teaches inner-city children in the New York area to write songs. Proceeds from the concert will benefit this very worthy program, as will profits from the sale of The Land Where the Good Songs Go, the recently released CD recorded by Hal and Sylvia which provided the basis (and most of the songs) for the concert. After also thanking Tony Ring and the Cazalet family for their support, Steven accompanied Hal on "The Land Where the Good Songs Go" (Miss 1917). It was Hal at his best.

The official finale was a vigorous "Anything Goes," with Plum’s lyrics for the British stage version. A certain colonel was quick to spot a clever twist: Where Plum had written, "The Government gets our money / ’Cause Neville [Chamberlain, Chancellor of the Exchequer, 1923-24, 1931-37] knows / Anything goes," the singers substituted "Gordon." An appreciative audience begged for more; so more was obligingly provided in the form of "Oh, Gee! Oh, Joy!" (Rosalie). How right they were – oh, gee, oh, joy, what a great night it was! Hal et al received three well-deserved curtain calls, and I for one could have sat and listened to them for several hours more.

There were a couple of glitches in the programme notes – Hal, for instance, is Plum’s great (not great great) grandson; and Wodehouse did not work with the George Grossmith of Gilbert and Sullivan fame but with his son, George Grossmith Jr. – but these are minimal criticisms. It was, all in all, a perfect evening, filled to the brim with foot-tapping music and Plum’s splendid lyrics, shared with infectious joy and enthusiasm. When Hal sang, "And I wish some day I could find my way / To the land where the good songs go," every Wodehousean in the Wigmore Hall felt they had at least had a glimpse of it.

- Aunt Dahlia