WS Gilbert was always concerned that Patience would date much sooner than his other collaborations with Sullivan. That isn't quite the case, though it has become a rarity. It also comes across as something of a problem piece. Its satire on all things self-regarding seems entirely apposite to our pretentious age, and yet its immediate focus was the aesthetic movement that included among its members the pre-Raphaelites, Whistler, William Morris and Oscar Wilde – whose achievements we now value and admire. Patience is still incredibly funny, but hindsight has made its humour unfair and, at times, cruel.

Whatever one's qualms about the piece, however, this Proms revival was a model of how to present it. Charles Mackerras, a life-long Gilbert and Sullivan fan, conducted with panache without losing sight of those moments of deep pathos that humanise the score's often sardonic tone. Martin Duncan's production – described as a "semi-staging" but lacking only a full set to make it complete – was a supremely intelligent affair that retained both the original period and dialogue, and managed always to teeter on the edge of camp without ever sliding into it.

The cast was perfection. Toby Stafford-Allen (Grosvenor) and Simon Butteriss (Bunthorne) were the velvet-clad rivals hankering after Rebecca Bottone's naive, proletarian Patience. Bonaventura Bottone – Rebecca's father – was the poncy Duke, harping on about his "cavalwy wegiment" in a manner part Noel Coward, part Jonathan Ross, and gradually falling for Felicity Palmer's raddled Lady Jane. There was even a cameo for Robert Tear as the Solicitor. We haven't had a G&S performance of this calibre for more than a decade. Outstanding, or as one of Gilbert's pseuds might say: "Consummately utter."