NEVER let it be said that Gilbert & Sullivan opera is not topical. Forget the selfie takers outside the Minster: the first of the latter-day narcissists, rival poets Reginald Bunthorne and Archibald Grosvenor, have been strutting their stuff at the theatre, thanks to English Touring Opera (ETO).

Refreshingly, Liam Steel’s production, which is the company’s first venture into G & S, stayed in the Victorian era rather than dumbing down to a modern milieu. Florence de Maré gave the poets pseudo-mediaeval outfits, while retaining pre-Raphaelite dresses for the ladies, with semi-nude statues in the alcoves of her permanent set.

The evening was slow to gain momentum, the "twenty love-sick maidens" (here actually 11) only perking up when the dragoons arrived. Thereafter fun and games built throughout, especially in Act 2. Lauren Zolezzi played it straight as Patience, a quizzical ingénue, contrasting nicely with the pretentious poetasters.

Bradley Travis’s Bunthorne was every inch the poseur, contorting himself into a variety of gestures. His counterpart, Ross Ramgobin’s Grosvenor, was less flamboyant, but tossed his sleek locks effectively. Andrew Slater’s Colonel Calverley delivered an exemplary patter song and was hilarious in drag with his sidekicks, played by Aled Hall and Jan Capiński.

Valerie Reid’s experienced Lady Jane made a touching lament about advancing age, partnered by a double bass. Timothy Burke conducted with plenty of rhythmic zest and excellent chorus choreography did the rest. Victoriana at its wittiest.

On Saturday, Blanche McIntyre’s production of Tosca, her debut in opera, never matched the score in either atmosphere or focus. Too often the principals veered off target. They were not helped by Florence de Maré’s odd set, which inexplicably included an angled ramp, as if Health & Safety had insisted on wheelchair access. It was at odds with both church and battlements, and its side-boards were a constant impediment to cross-stage movement.

Neither were things much better in the pit. Jack Ridley, deputising for musical director Michael Rosewell, exhibited plenty of enthusiasm but too rarely had his players in harness and at vital moments, as in Tosca’s scene with Scarpia, was too dilatory to allow tension to build.

Paula Sides was a gutsy Tosca, more determined than winning, lacking the hauteur of the diva. Her top notes tended to the shrill, but she fashioned an engaging "Vissi d’arte", which showed what might have been. Similarly, Craig Smith’s Scarpia, always forthright, was more avuncular than menacing, certainly not the nasty piece of work Puccini envisaged.

Samuel Sakker phrased his Cavaradossi with a real appreciation of what the Italian was all about. His is a tenor with serious promise, beautifully focused throughout its range. But he alone could not save a disappointing evening.