Follow That Girl – A Victorian Romp With Real Charm

Some shows stay with you, not because they were perfect or profound, but because they made you feel something specific. For me, Follow That Girl is one of those. I was in it as a teenager in September 1996, back when corsets were uncomfortable, blocking notes were scribbled on paper, and comic timing was everything. It was one of those community theatre productions where half the fun happened off-stage. The kind where the cast becomes a little family, and you spend tech week running between the wings trying to find your prop hat.

We staged it at The Duchess Theatre in Long Eaton – and this was prior to the fire and subsequent upgrade. I remember being genuinely surprised by how funny and fresh the show felt. It’s set in Victorian London and was originally written in the 50s – so by rights it should have felt dated. But it didn’t. The humour still landed, the music was catchy, and there was a sort of cheeky energy that made the whole thing come alive. It was silly in the best way – a proper romp that didn’t need bells and whistles to win people over.

I played one of the ensemble parts, and I still remember the lyrics to “Three Victorian Mermaids” and “Taken for a Ride” years later. It was one of my earliest musicals, I think just after I’d finished The King and I. Before I started taking leads! I’d just joined the Chatsworth Musical Society, a society I remember fondly and a place in which I met some amazing friends.

But there was something about it that really stuck. It felt like a musical that knew exactly what it was. Light-hearted, unpretentious, and oddly touching. It didn’t try to be flashy or modern. It wasn’t trying to make you cry. It just wanted to make you smile – and it did. Even now, hearing the title tune or spotting the cast album online gives me a little jolt of nostalgia. There aren’t many shows like it anymore – and maybe that’s part of its charm.

Where It All Began

Follow That Girl didn’t start life as a West End musical. It began as a Christmas show called Christmas in King Street, written for the Bristol Old Vic in 1952. The writers – Julian Slade and Dorothy Reynolds – were part of the Bristol theatre scene at the time. Slade was a composer with a knack for cheerful, hummable tunes; Reynolds was an actress-turned-writer with a dry wit and an instinct for character. Together, they created something simple, local, and fun – the kind of festive fare you could put on with a modest cast and a piano.

After their enormous success with Salad Days in 1954 – one of the longest-running British musicals ever – producers were understandably keen for more. Instead of writing something completely new, Slade and Reynolds decided to revisit their earlier show. They rewrote it, changed the name, and gave it a wider appeal. Follow That Girl opened in London at the Vaudeville Theatre in 1960, effectively taking over from Salad Days in the same venue. It was positioned as the next chapter in the Slade/Reynolds story.

The original had been full of Bristol-specific jokes and references. In adapting it for the West End, the team swapped out the local humour for something more universally Victorian. They brought in an orchestrator, added choreography, and gave the whole thing a slight polish without losing its homespun feel. The result? A slightly daft but deeply charming chase comedy with a heart of gold.

The Characters in Follow That Girl

Here’s a rundown of the key characters in Follow That Girl – from the runaway heroine to the singing mermaids. Like the show itself, they’re colourful, slightly eccentric, and full of charm:

• Victoria Gilchrist – The lead. A spirited young woman who is tired of being told what to do. She’s smart, determined, and not afraid to run off if it means avoiding a dull arranged marriage.
• Tom Blenkinsop – A kind-hearted police constable who’s more interested in love than law. He follows Victoria across London and ends up discovering his own family history.
• Mr Gilchrist – Victoria’s stuffy, old-fashioned father. Obsessed with propriety and marrying his daughter off to the “right sort.”
• Mrs Gilchrist – Victoria’s slightly fluttery, sentimental mother. Played originally by Patricia Routledge with brilliant comic timing.
• Tancred – One of Victoria’s proposed suitors. Very proper and fussy. Think bowler hat and far too many opinions about cravats.
• Wilberforce – The other suitor. Nervous, awkward, and obsessed with his family’s soap business.
• Walter Miskin, R.A. – A Royal Academy painter with a bohemian streak. Years ago, he and his wife lost their infant son.
• Cora Miskin – Walter’s artistic, dreamy wife. She still quietly mourns their missing child but stays hopeful.
• Mercia, Mavis, and Maudie – Three singing mermaids who appear during a fantasy sequence at the Aquarium. Surreal and hilarious.
• The Transport Quartet – Four men representing different modes of Victorian transport (Bus, Train, Tube, and Taxi). They get swept up in the city-wide chase and deliver one of the funniest numbers in the show.
• Miss Payton – A minor character (often a servant or family friend) who pops up throughout. Adds a bit of background colour and dry humour.

The Plot of Follow That Girl

Set in a stylised version of Victorian London, the show centres around Victoria Gilchrist – a bright, determined young woman who doesn’t want to be married off by her well-meaning but clueless parents. Her father, Mr Gilchrist, has lined up two suitors: Tancred (fussy and pompous) and Wilberforce (nervy and bland). Victoria has no interest in either. So she does the only sensible thing: she runs away.

This sparks a city-wide chase involving not just her family but a whole cast of characters. Chief among them is Tom Blenkinsop, a young police constable who’s more interested in falling in love than arresting anyone. He spots Victoria just as she’s about to jump into the Thames in despair – off the Albert Bridge, no less – and instead of hauling her in, he joins her adventure. From that point on, it’s a chase, a flirtation, and a slowly unfolding love story.

Along the way, we meet Walter and Cora Miskin, a bohemian artist couple who lost their child years ago and are still quietly mourning. They’ve built a whimsical world full of creativity, distraction, and quiet grief. We get a gaggle of transport workers – a bus conductor, train guard, Tube man, and taxi driver – all caught up in the chase. There’s even a fantasy sequence set in an aquarium, complete with singing mermaids. Yes, really. It’s the kind of moment that only works in a show like this – gently surreal, full of charm.

Eventually, everything ties together. Victoria and Tom fall in love. Tom turns out to be the Miskins’ long-lost son (because, of course, he does). Victoria’s father is suddenly fine with the marriage. It’s all very neat, very Victorian, and very much in the tradition of musical comedy that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

The Style: Whimsy With a Wink

One of the things that makes Follow That Girl work – and why it worked even when I did it in the 90s – is its tone. It knows exactly what it is. It doesn’t try to be edgy or profound. It’s gently satirical, poking fun at Victorian manners, romance, and class, but it never tips over into cynicism.

It’s also very English. Where American musicals of the time were getting bigger, brassier, and more emotionally intense (West Side Story opened in London around the same time), Follow That Girl stayed small-scale and light on its feet. There’s a bit of Gilbert and Sullivan in its DNA, plus shades of The Boy Friend (another musical I performed in during my teens) and – inevitably – Salad Days. The humour comes from character, situation, and the occasional ridiculous rhyme.

The music complements that tone. It’s full of lilting melodies, comic duets, and cheerful ensemble numbers. There are no big emotional showstoppers, just songs that carry the mood forward. “Three Victorian Mermaids” is exactly what it sounds like – daft and oddly touching. “Taken for a Ride” gives the transport men a moment to shine in a barbershop-style lament. “One, Two, Three, One” is a romantic waltz that sneaks up on you.

Speaking of Patricia Routledge…

It makes sense to mention her here, just after introducing the characters. Patricia Routledge played Mrs Gilchrist in the original West End production, and it’s one of those performances people still talk about. The role let her show off the comic timing that would later make her famous.

Her song “Waiting for Our Daughter” became a standout moment. Reviews at the time praised her for almost stealing the show – and if you listen to the cast album, you’ll hear why. It’s all slightly off-key warbling, dramatic gasps, and tipsy nonsense. Totally over-the-top, and completely brilliant.

The original 1960 cast was stacked with talent, more broadly too. Susan Hampshire played Victoria early in her career. Peter Gilmore was Tom – earnest and likeable. And a supporting ensemble that included future stars made this more than just a curiosity. It was a solid, well-performed piece of work.

Follow That Girl Song List

The score, written by Julian Slade with lyrics by Slade and Dorothy Reynolds, is full of playful patter songs and toe-tapping ensemble numbers. It’s very much in that 1950s British musical style – tuneful, witty, and not remotely interested in being trendy. Here’s the full list of musical numbers from the original 1960 West End production:

• Overture – Orchestra
• “Tra La La” – Tom, Victoria & Company
• “I’m Away” – Walter, Cora & Company
• “Follow That Girl” – Tom
• “Life Must Go On” – Tancred and Wilberforce
• “Three Victorian Mermaids” – Mercia, Mavis, Maudie
• “Doh Ray Me” – Victoria (with Mr Gilchrist)
• “Song and Dance” – Tom & Company
• “The Chase” – Orchestra
• “Taken for a Ride” – Bus, Train, Tube, and Taxi Men
• “Solitary Stranger” – Cora & Walter
• “Shopping in Kensington” – Cora & Walter
• “Lovely Meeting You at Last” – Tom
• “Waiting for Our Daughter” – Mr & Mrs Gilchrist
• “One, Two, Three, One” – Tom & Victoria
• “Evening in London” – Full Company
• “Finale” – Company

Each song plays a small but effective part in moving the story along, or just giving the cast a moment to have a bit of fun. “Taken for a Ride” is a barbershop-style quartet sung by the four transport men, and it always gets a laugh. “One, Two, Three, One” is a charming little waltz number that ends up being far more romantic than it has any right to be. And “Three Victorian Mermaids” is exactly what it sounds like – daft, dreamy, and completely delightful.

A Modest Hit (With a Popular Album)

The show ran for 211 performances – not bad, not groundbreaking. It opened in March and closed in September 1960. Part of the reason it didn’t run longer was timing. That same year, Oliver! opened and became a sensation. Next to that, Follow That Girl felt like a gentle breeze next to a musical hurricane.

But the cast recording did very well. It even reached the UK Top 5, which is unusual for a show that didn’t have a long run. The album is still available – it’s been reissued on CD and even made its way to streaming platforms. And for those who love old-school musical theatre, it’s a lovely listen.

Revivals and Rediscoveries

The show hasn’t had many major revivals, but in 2000 it was brought back for a limited run at the Theatre Museum in London. That production reminded people just how enjoyable the show is – not in a “this needs a big-budget revival” way, but as a reminder that British musical theatre has its own traditions worth celebrating.

Follow That Girl also turns up occasionally in amateur productions. It’s well-suited to smaller companies: the cast isn’t huge, the sets are manageable, and the score doesn’t demand a 30-piece orchestra. That’s probably part of why it was chosen for our group in the 90s – it’s doable, fun, and just quirky enough to be memorable.

Why It Still Works

Back in our 90s production, audiences genuinely enjoyed themselves. There were laughs in all the right places, and more than a few people hummed the title song on their way out of the theatre. It’s not a show that wows with spectacle, but it wins people over with heart. It’s warm. It’s playful. It lets you forget about real life for a couple of hours.

It’s not perfect. The plot is flimsy. The jokes don’t all land. And if you’re expecting big, emotional showstoppers, you’ll be disappointed.

But if you’re after something with heart, humour, and a healthy dose of Victoriana, Follow That Girl still delivers. It captures a particular moment in British theatre – post-war optimism, pre-Beatles innocence – when people just wanted to be entertained. A time when gentle comedy and whimsical songs were enough.

Sadly, this lesser-known musical is rarely performed. Unfortunately, it’s a risk many societies can’t afford to take as ticket sales continue to decline both for professional and amateur productions.

However, Follow That Girl proves that a musical doesn’t have to be groundbreaking to be good. Some of them just make you smile. And honestly, there’s a lot to be said for that.