Priscilla, Queen of the Desert Bristol Hippodrome, until April 27 Tickets from £15 from 0844 871 3012

I HATE Jason Donovan. There, I’ve said it.

Yeah, so his singing voice is still pretty amazing 20-odd years after he first duetted with Kylie. And sure, the man who made the Strictly Come Dancing final a couple of years ago can still shake his groove thing at the grand old age of 44.

But what really riles me about him – what winds me up more than anything – is that he looks better in a pair of fishnet stockings than I could ever dream of. And he can walk in six-inch stilettos. I hate him.

In fact, there’s not a dud pair of pins among the assembled cast of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, currently stopping off at the Bristol Hippodrome on its UK tour. Nor is there a dud voice, or a weak link, or a dull moment or a dodgy set.

In short, the production is a delicious joy from curtain up to the big finish – the beaming faces and belly laughs from the delighted audience are testament to that.

It is probably not a show for the easily shocked. Three drag queens board a bus, Priscilla, from Sydney to Alice Springs, encountering some of Australia’s characters –and a few ping pong balls (don’t ask) – along the way.

The laughs are layered on as thickly as the make-up, but there are moments of poignancy and even a tear or two along the way as the three come to terms with the complexities of their lives.

The three leads – Donovan as Mitzi, Richard Grieve as Bernadette and Graham Weaver as Felicia – are brilliantly OTT and carry off some eye-watering costumes and flamboyant dance routines with considerable skill.

But they are matched every mincing step of the way by a cast of slick professionals, with belting voices and energy beyond belief.

The production is garish, vulgar, sometimes offensive and often crude. What’s not to love?

Except maybe Jason Donovan... the bitch.