IT’S well into its second decade and has weathered having the Michael taken out of it in more ways than one.

Two years after creating Lord of the Dance Irish dancer extraordinaire Michael Flatley retired from the lead role.

And then of course came a certain X-Factor entry. From the off whenever sparkly trousered, satin shirted Lord of the Dance Damien O’Kane, took up the famous two armed stance, the ghost of Stavros Flatley was never far behind. Fortunately, with charismatic lead Damien O’Kane and his fleet ensemble it was in good hands. Or feet. Best of all while the production pummelled every human sense, it never took itself too seriously.

Evil Don Dorca, flanked by masked stormtrooper muscle, steals the Lord’s title – literally, a belt with Lord of the Dance emblazoned across it – when he’s betrayed by vixenish Morrighan. Real love is Saoirse (dancer Bernadette Flynn, who partnered Michael Flatley in the original).

The show opens in a mist of incense and monks with candles, blue light washing across Celtic patterned backdrop. Then ancient folklore took a turn for high camp.

The first truly eye-popping moment was after the end of the enervating first dance when a pyrotechnic bomb went off to mark it. The second was when the female troop ripped off their dresses to reveal black velvet bra tops and hotpants. Later after a final dance off between good and evil – more and more reminiscent of Star Wars as the night went on, even with tribute Death Star motif – came number three: the cast twirled on in head to foot Day-Glo – I hope those blokes are paid well – for a spot of Ibiza-flavoured foot-tapping.

If I had any criticism it would be LoD has tried a little too hard to push its production in step with the times, and underestimates the mesmeric pull of haunting music and talented dancers performing at full pelt. But it was huge, spirit-lifting fun. The only cherry on the cake would have been Stavros high kicking it on at the end. Hint, Michael?

EMMA PINCH