Napoleon and the Chicken Farmer at Maidment Theatre

Cue cackling chickens, cue narrator Jackie Clarke, cue more cackling.

N-A-P-O-L-E-O-N spells out just under an hour of good fun for children as the team that toured the Hairy Maclary show for the past few years turns its hand to the story of a tortured Corsican chicken farmer with a bad case of emperor envy.

The show is a great introduction to theatre concepts for the littlies: there's song, dance, slapstick and, of course, the all-important audience participation, with a backdrop of colourful sets.

A mask-wearing cast cavort as the story is spun - in Allo Allo-style French accents - of a short but commanding Napoleon, weary from the burdens of conquest, returning to his island home for a holiday.

His annual lookalike contest pits the locals against each other for the right to rule for a day, with poultry peasant Manoli pleading Pick Me, Pick Me, Pick Me.

In all there were 11 songs, but this was one of only a handful which really fired.

The Greatest Ruler in the World rousingly kicked off the show, and was reprised when glory went to Manoli's head and he refused to return to his day job.

Strutting and preening, he lets his chickens run wild and the townsfolk soon run out of eggs.

Manoli's wife, Florence, appeals to the emperor to put her husband back in his place. She bemoans her inability to run the roost while sneezing her way through The Chickens Give Me Hay Fever.

For the audience, which ranged in age from about 2 to 8, it was around this midpoint when things began to get a bit distracting.

An operatic-style verbal duel between Napoleon and Manoli dragged. Toddlers who had thrilled to cheeky chickens pecking the players rather lost author Lloyd Jones' observations on social place and self-regard.

For older kindy kids and school-starters the storyline was easier to follow, and adults were rewarded with the obligatory sly one-liners.

A rousing ending helped get things back on clap, but Napoleon and the Chicken Farmer - both book and play - suffers for the unlikeable eggshell-thin ego of its main character, and in comparison with the well-loved antics of Hairy Maclary.