The Oxford Revue

Stuffing pillows down one's top to simulate mild obesity doesn't turn a young person into George Galloway. Producing an uncanny likeness of his accent and unleashing bursts of oratory which include the word "popinjay", however, very nearly does. And it's here where the Oxford Revue gets the most brownie points: while some of the sketch writing is inconsistent, the performers obviously have the ability to produce some comedy gold.

Clearly, there is a lot to commend the group's writing. Sports coverage, show tunes and rhyming dictionaries are all plundered successfully for satire. There's even a gay kiss between two toffs. Sod the Archers – no smoochy sound effects here. Weaker sketches, a workshop on improvised comedy, for example, are carried by the unwavering energy of the group's members.

But Oxford is an established enough university, and the Oxford Revue are now an established company. Surely they could, together, offer a degree course in revue writing? It's a risky suggestion, open to curmudgeonly grumbles along the lines of, "hmph, well there probably already is, these days." There isn't. Which is a shame because Sacred Roadworks feels more like a collection of overly short sketches than a coherent revue. There's a nice attempt at using Condollezza Rice to unify the performance, but the main problem remains: like the fibre in a balanced diet, one can't help but feel that a few longer sketches might enable the six performers to add substance to their character acting. Tellingly, one of the longest of the sketches is actually the best. It's the gay one, again.