Three singing legends were strutting their stuff at Chichester Festival Theatre.

For more than two-and-a-half hours, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr indulged in some fantastic songs, some dancing and a shedload of dry wit, celebrating infidelity, drinking and the good life.

Of course, it wasn't them but the three singers playing the greats are separated by only a cigarette paper from the real thing.

This wasn't for the politically correct. Sammy Davis is called Smokie, Dean Martin celebrates the difference between the wife and the girlfriend and there is enough smoking to give any health official a fit.

But it was worth it because this was one hell of a show.

This was five-star entertainment, fun with a capital F and a slice of nostalgia with some of the coolest songs ever written.

It was set in 1960 at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas, where the memorable album The Summit came from.

Superficially, each of the singers bore a likeness to the three real-life entertainers but what works best are the voices.

Close your eyes and you really are at The Sands.

If you are looking for a new Frank Sinatra, look no further than Stephen Triffitt. No one can exactly replicate Sinatra's phrasing but Triffitt comes the closest. His reading of My Way is perfect and New York, New York comes with an ace.

George Long's Sammy Davis is as zippy as the original, not least in the dance sequences and his reading of Mr Bojangles is heartbreaking.

Newcomer Mark Adams has Dean Martin spot on, down to the cross of the T. His drunk routine is dazzlingly funny and Amore and Volare had me believing Dino walked again.

Backed by a 15-piece big band of impeccable quality, a trio of girl singers and dancers and the best sound balance I have heard in years, this is a great, great show.

Pathos and poignancy, fun and fabulous faking, this was an unforgettable step down memory lane.