Arriving at I’m Sorry Prime Minister without any familiarity with the original television series, expectations are modest. The main point of reference is its political pedigree. Yes Minister was famously adored by Margaret Thatcher, who even wrote a sketch for the show. It is tempting to wonder what she might make of this latest instalment several decades on. She may not be entirely impressed.
Billed as a final chapter following the television series and previous stage success, I’m Sorry, Prime Minister reunites the long-running duo of Jim Hacker and Sir Humphrey Appleby. Hacker (Griff Rhys Jones), now in later life, serves as Master of Hacker College, only to find himself under threat of removal by the college committee. In response, he calls on his old ally Sir Humphrey (Clive Francis), who is also searching for employment as a means of escaping an overbearing domestic situation. With the assistance of caretaker Sophie (Stephanie Levi-John), the pair attempt to secure their respective futures.
The play opens with Hacker interviewing Sophie for a job. From the outset, the humour is evident, with Jones delivering a steady stream of one-liners in a performance that captures the former prime minister’s bluster and self-importance. A recurring gag about Sophie being a care worker repeatedly misheard as “sex worker” sets the tone for the production’s broad, wordplay-driven comedy. Sophie initially feels somewhat underwritten, and her assertiveness in the opening interview scene can seem slightly jarring, though her role becomes clearer as the plot develops.
Sir David (William Chubb) appears during these early scenes. His appearances are brief but functional, providing an external obstacle that helps structure the narrative without extending much further.
The production finds its strongest footing with the arrival of Appleby. The chemistry between Francis and Jones becomes the play’s central strength, and their exchanges generate many of the evening’s most effective comic moments. Francis delivers several well-timed gags, including one involving a persistently vibrating phone, that draw clear audience response.
The first act contains a number of amusing passages, largely carried by the central pairing. Sophie offers an occasional counterpoint, though she is frequently relegated to background activity such as making coffee, tidying the kitchen, or sorting files during extended stretches of dialogue. At times this provides visual texture. At others, it highlights the script’s reliance on lengthy conversational scenes that struggle to maintain momentum.
The second act follows a similar pattern and ultimately exposes the production’s main weakness. Jonathan Lynn, co-creator of the original series and writer here, delivers familiar rhythms of political satire and verbal sparring but provides little dramatic weight beyond them. Attempts to engage with contemporary issues, particularly Brexit, university culture and free speech, feel somewhat dated and rooted in debates that no longer carry the same immediacy. While Sophie helps facilitate these discussions, she is not given sufficient depth to offer a genuinely fresh perspective, and her presence can occasionally feel more functional than illuminating.
As a result, the play never quite develops beyond its central comic dynamic. While there are moments that prompt genuine laughter and the rapport between Hacker and Appleby remains engaging, the script struggles to build meaningful stakes. Even by the conclusion, key narrative threads, particularly Hacker’s threatened removal from his role, remain underexplored, leaving the overall effect slightly underwhelming.
The staging is polished and effective. Set entirely within Hacker’s living room and kitchen, the design features high bookshelves and a window backed by a screen showing rain and snowfall. Subtle political details embedded in the set provide a welcome visual layer and reinforce the play’s setting without distracting from the action.
For long-time fans, I’m Sorry Prime Minister offers the pleasure of seeing familiar characters reunited. Yet while the production delivers flashes of the wit that defines the original series, it ultimately relies more on nostalgia than fresh insight, resulting in a competent but uneven final outing.
Comedy
I’m Sorry Prime Minister
By Jonathan Lynn, Ben and Max Ringham, Jonathan Lynn and Johan Persson
Cast Includes Griff Rhys Jones, Clive Francis, William Chubb and Stephanie Levi – John
Until 9 May 2026
Two hours and 15 minutes, including one interval
Photo credit: Johan Persson