Sometimes we need theatre to reflect our turbulent times. At other points, as drones whirr overhead and oil prices spike, we need a wild campy ride through the Lower Largo Triangle.

To that end I’m treating you all to a version of my review of the National Theatre of Scotland’s reboot of The High Life. Joy, energy, snarky Scottish humour, stupendous wigs … What’s not to like?

It’s Forbes Masson and Alan Cumming reunited as the drama school pals revisit their 1990s TV series. Co-stars Siobhan Redmond and Patrick Ryecart are also on board. As if that was not delicious enough, in comes Louise McCarthy as an unhinged former Tennent’s lager lovely with an unlovely secret agenda.

Co-writer Johnny McKnight is the secret spice in this mid-flight Bloody Mary. The man who reinvented and updated traditional Scottish panto for a 21st century audience mashes elements from his Tron and MacRobert shows - body diversity, physical diversity, lots of catty digs at the cast - with nostalgia for the TV OG.

McKnight has imposed a plot, of sorts, onto the catch phrases and character comedy. A mysterious androgynous entrepreneur wants to take over Scotia Airlines and de-tartanify it. Flight 123 crashes over the Lower Largo Triangle with this unwanted venture capitalist on board.

There’s more - possibly a little too much more - but, as in McKnight’s pantos, the plot points are underlined and presented in bold in case we miss them.

Other familiar tropes start as one thing then pivot to another. Kyle Gardiner’s Mylie, the gormless intern, looks like a classic daft laddie while Redmond’s Shona Spurtle has an entrance number worthy of the baddest baddie in the pantosphere.

When it’s time to sing the Air Scotia corporate song, they bring doon the cloot so the audience can join in.

Regular Tron and McRobert panto-goers will enjoy counting off the McKnightisms. There are not one but two gay love stories, including the obligatory lesbian snog. A few dad jokes make it in, although sadly not the one about the baker needing a jobbie which has been repurposed more often than one of Princess Anne’s tweed suits.

Ozempic and Cumming’s role in the Traitors naturally get menshies. There’s a great diss, from a young member of the cast, about the “legacy talent”. All the airline gags are present and correct, including rhyming Jarvis Cocker with overhead locker.

All that’s missing is the Mariah Carey finale. (All McKnight’s pantos end with the cast singing All I Want For Christmas Is You.)

Cumming and Masson revive their roles with visible affection, with Masson doing rather more of the heavy lifting. He also heads off jokes about his weight by getting in an early gag about wearing a fat suit.

An unkind person might suggest that the show was cleverly designed to allow Cumming to parachute in and insert his twinkly Hollywood charm (and box office pull) while everyone around him sweats like a bear carrying the plot. But there is an undeniable frisson seeing a real life star emerge through a paper-fronted packing case at the start of the show.

Redmond is tremendous, rocking the musical numbers and delivering her acidic tongue twisty lines like Miss Jean Brodie. Who knew she had such a great singing voice? Ryecart’s captain is a geriatric agent of chaos, gamely wearing everything from an asymmetric mini kilt to a fluffy dog suit.

The chorus do a belter of a job, switching not only costumes but wigs at hair-frizzing speed, giving the song and dance numbers absolute laldy.

The tabasco in the mix, to continue the Bloody Mary metaphor, is the NTS-level budget. The High Life is on a scale of which McKnight’s festive shows can only dream, the panto he has always wanted to make.

There is an 11-strong cast - plus a full-time understudy for Cumming and Masson - and a five piece band on stage throughout the show. This makes all the difference to a music-heavy production, giving it an energy that no digital recording can ever match.

Then there are the astounding costumes, including a whole sub-Royston Vasey 1970s moment, and a change into even more sparkly numbers for the curtain call. This is a panto touch that marks out the big budget Kings Theatre jobs from the smaller scale on which McKnight usually works, and feels like an ambition realised.

The revolving set requires several stage hands, also in costume, to change it around. Did I mention the custom-made dog suit? And, at the expense of repetition but they are a huge budget heading, the wigs?

Despite these delights, The High Life is not perfect. The start could take a trim. The cloot should not be brought down in the first half and there’s a handbrake turn after the interval. Lavatorial humour, however slight, is never necessary.

Does any of this spoil the enormous and much needed joy of The High Life. Not even close.