Director's Note
One day in the summer of 1995 a group of four ex-students from Kent University, Johanna Allitt, Simon Curtis, Mike Fidler and Charlotte Mann had the idea of putting together a production for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. This in itself is not the most promising start to a story - hundreds of enterprising young people have a similar idea every year. Only a few of these actually manage to do it at all and even fewer manage to produce anything worthwhile. The story of this particular group of people and the backstage fairytale of the creation of this musical has the quality of one of those 1940's backstage Busby Berkley musicals that we all watch on rainy Sunday afternoons. So, back to that day in 1995 and that idea - to do a production of Leonard Bernstein's 'Candide'.
"Great", said the promoter, "...Oh wait ...no sorry, we've already got one of those - have you got anything else?" "Oh sure!" comes the white lie too easily, "We'll send you the outline tomorrow." This was the first hurdle, no outline. So they came up with one. "I know, let's write our own musical" offers the most optimistic. Nervous laughter all round. "Yes, okay, but what about?" "Well, you've all seen This Is Spinal Tap'. In the last scene they talk about writing a musical called Saucy Jack. Let's write that." A heavy silence descends upon the room until one timid voice offers "Well I suppose we could try. We could set it in space and have lots of spunky women called The Vixens" "Yeah ... great, Saucy Jack Goes To Space And Meets The Spunky Vixens - it can't fail."
Well to cut a long story a little shorter, with the barest of outlines they managed to get a slot at Edinburgh with Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens. All they had to do now was write it and ... oh, yes I almost forgot, find someone to compose the music. This is the moment, incidentally, when anyone with any sense goes on holiday to the Bahamas or... Bognor Regis or... anywhere. However, our intrepid heroes flesh out a plot, add the characters, a smidgen of sex, a pinch of sauce and about four ladles of 'camp' and they're on their way. They go to the pub to celebrate and bump into a couple of old mates who say, "What a fantastic idea, we'll write the songs."
I must point out to the sceptical reader that this sort of thing doesn't happen in real life - at least not mine. Only in the weird world of writing musicals. Anyway, Jonathan Croose and Robin Forrest joined the team and between the six of them they achieved their initial goal which was to produce a show at the Edinburgh Festival. One of them wrote the script, one directed it, two acted in it, one did the marketing, one did the press and they all had a great time!
And that should have been the end of the story. But it wasn't. They played to full houses, achieved critical acclaim in the national press, won a Fringe First Award and were wooed by commercial producers. They managed what so many of us have tried to do in this business, which is to create a piece of musical theatre both fresh and vibrant and with a feel of today, tomorrow and even a touch of yesterday about it. I'm a relative newcomer to Saucy Jack but I have a message for everyone this evening. If there's one thing I've learned from these six people, it's this: anyone can be a Space Vixen.
KEITH STRACHAN

Writer's Note
When people ask me how I feel about the success of Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens I always reply "I feel like the understudy who has her big chance - I just hope the costume fits!"
The Edinburgh run led to a reception I had only dreamed of. By the second week people were commuting from London to see the show and bringing their own bubble-wrap - I was astounded. When The Scotsman described the show as "a hymn to individual freedom" I felt we had achieved our initial aim to create a postmodern musical which raised an intergalactic hand at convention to celebrate diversity and cheap glamour! Two an a half years later the show you will see tonight still has that indefinable quality which makes it work.
The question of camp has raised more than the odd eyebrow along the way - some shy away, some look on in disdain, others go all the way. It's something I find very hard to define because - in the words of dear Booby, my alter-ego - "It's so much more ... me!"
Call it camp, kitsch, queer or just fabulous - camp is a wonderful way of saying "This is what I am and I love it - fetch my sequins darling and pour me a gin!" At heart, again like Booby, I'm a simple girl who wants for nothing more than the front cover of Hello! magazine and morning coffee with Richard and Judy - that's camp.
CHARLOTTE MANN