Gabriel, at Shakespeare's Globe - Telegraph Theatre managers in the West End often complain to me about the heavy toll that heatwaves take on box-office earnings. I always reply in the same way: invest just a tiny fraction of the vast profits that you make each year into seating plans that don't pack so much hot, human flesh into such tiny spaces, and, in the name of God, acquire some effective air-conditioning systems. Greedy characters that they are, they won't listen - and that is why, when I bumped into Dominic Dromgoole, the boss of the Globe, during the interval of Gabriel, I mischievously urged him to do something that, so far as I know, no theatre management has done before: try some negative campaigning. Make the point in the newspaper advertisements that the theatres across the river are disgusting in this kind of heat, but the Globe, with the fresh air blowing into it from the Thames, possesses the coolest auditorium in the capital. Decent, honourable chap that he is, Dromgoole thought it wouldn't quite be done, so, accordingly, I'm making the point for him. I have been the first to complain about how miserable the Globe, open to the heavens, can be when it's cold and pouring with rain, so it's perhaps only fair I should now be its greatest fair-weather friend. Gabriel is a classic Globe extravaganza: it is great, big, joyous, throw-back-your-head-and-just-go-with-the-flow theatre. It was originally envisaged as a showcase for the talents of Alison Balsom, the English trumpet soloist whose rendering of Haydn's Trumpet Concerto was a high point of the Last Night of the Proms a few years ago. The wily playwright Samuel Adamson, however, makes it a lot more than that a mere star vehicle. He presents not just the sounds of 17th-century London, but also the sights and stories of it in all its colourful and kaleidoscopic exuberance. Dromgoole, who directs the production, makes it look like it was the easiest show in the world to stage - and that, I fancy, is a testament to his genius. He populates the stage with a large cast that includes such familiar faces as Sam Cox (brilliant as a Thames waterman who boasts, Shakespeare in Love-style, "I once had that "enry Purcell in my boat"); and Trevor Fox, who walks on nude with only an instrument to hide his own instrument. Its bawdiness is, of course, true to the period, but the four-letter words, the flatulence and certainly the cunnilingus - this is the first time I have seen it performed on stage - may not be to everyone's taste. It was certainly too much for a tut-tutting American couple sitting in front of me, who didn't return for the second act, but more fool them for being such boring prudes. Balsom is simply divine, and there is some wonderful singing from, among others, the great counter-tenor William Purefoy (who is, incidentally, the brother of the actor James). If you love Purcell and Handel, I challenge you not to love this show. The production amounts to a celebration of life. Until Aug 18. Tickets:020 7401 9919. shakespearesglobe.com