‘Be there as we bid farewell for the very last time,” said the handbills promoting Riverdance, on its return to Oxford’s New Theatre this week. Even less cynical folk than I, however, might suspect reports of its demise to be a tad exaggerated. The show is virtually sold out for the whole week. Are they really going to bump off this cash cow? Will fans let them?

The enthusiasm with which this virtuoso display of dancing and musicianship is greeted by the packed houses is testament to its very special appeal. But I doubt if many of its admirers take much account of its narrative theme, in which is traced, with pretentious poetic commentary (writer Theo Dorgan), the progress of Irish people at home and abroad.

Better just to let the lovely music (composer Bill Whelan) hold you in its grip. This is supplied in rich variety, and brilliantly sung and played, by the fiery fiddle player Niamh Fahy especially.

Not for the first time during this show, however, I found myself mildly irritated by how much of the sound appears to be supplied by backing tapes. This includes the very prominent work of a guitarist and a percussive accompaniment to some of the dancing.

Not, perhaps, that this is necessary, for the 20-and-more dancers make clatter enough with their amazing routines, during which their boots become a blur. Leader Alan Kenefick, for instance, achieves what can only be adequately compared with a drum roll. The Irish boys’ dancing duel with US tappers Parker Hall and Toby Harris is a highlight of the night. Adding an international flavour to the show, there is wonderful work, too, from flamenco dancer Marina Claudio and from a tumbling, twirling Russian team.