This week marks 45 years since Cats prowled onto the stage of the New London Theatre on 11 May 1981.
Andrew Lloyd Webber‘s song cycle adapted from T.S. Eliot‘s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, with no real plot, no real dialogue, and an awful lot of legwarmers, opened to a chorus of “this will never work” and proceeded to run for 21 years in the West End, scoop a cabinet’s worth of awards and become a global juggernaut that has been performed in over 30 countries and 15 languages.
It also gave the world Memory, a song so musically inevitable it has been recorded by Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Susan Boyle and approximately every cruise-ship pianist in human history.
To celebrate, here’s a guide to the Jellicle tribe, where one lucky feline is chosen each year to ascend to the Heaviside Layer and be reborn.
What would some of the cats be up to in 2026? Let’s take a look.
Old Deuteronomy
The wise, twinkly-eyed patriarch of the Jellicle tribe, who is so old he has “lived many lives in succession” and “buried nine wives”, which is either a profound metaphysical statement or a cause for concern, depending on how you look at it.
Played in 1981 by Brian Blessed, and more recently Dame Judi Dench in the film version.
Sadly, Old Deuteronomy has now moved on to the heavyside layer. He went on a downward spiral when the show closed at the New London Theatre in 2002 and lost his purpose in life.
Grizabella, the Glamour Cat
The faded showgirl of the alleyways. Once dazzling, now shunned by the tribe and reduced to wandering moodily upstage. Sings Memory in act one, sings Memory even harder in act two and ascends to the Heaviside Layer at the end. She is the original sad girl with a comeback arc.
Grizabella spent a few years in prison for public indecency (approaching strangers in the street and belting “touch me” in their faces).
She can now be seen at any convention that will have her and records Cameo videos for £25.
Macavity
The villain. A ginger criminal mastermind described as “the Napoleon of crime,” who is somehow never there when a paw print needs taking. He kidnaps Old Deuteronomy in Act Two purely to keep things interesting.
Now a prolific keyboard warrior, Macavity uses Twitter to start arguments in the comments of people’s posts and refuses to call it ‘X’.
Mr. Mistoffelees
The magical black-and-white cat who can produce kittens from hats and conjure Old Deuteronomy back from wherever Macavity has stashed him.
Won Britain’s Got Talent and now has his own Las Vegas residency.
The Rum Tum Tugger
The rebel. The flirt. The cat who will not eat the food you put in his bowl on principle. Modelled in attitude on Mick Jagger and in hairstyle on a poodle that has fallen into a hedge.
Beloved by all, his metrosexual persona has made him one of the most successful cats on Only Fans.
Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer
A pair of cockney cat burglars who tap dance their way through every drawing room they vandalise. Now playing the role of the Artful Dodger in a community theatre production of Oliver! in Dunstable.
Skimbleshanks, the Railway Cat
The conscientious tabby of the night, without whom the entire British rail network would, by his own account, grind to a halt.
Now heads up the National Rail Train Strike Committee.
Bustopher Jones
A monocle-and-spats cat about town who lunches at all the best clubs and weighs “twenty-five pounds.”
London’s first feline food influencer and restaurant critic for The Guardian.
Gus, the Theatre Cat
The retired luvvie, trembling and threadbare, who sits in the corner of the Groucho Club reminiscing about playing Growltiger and Firefrorefiddle the Fiend of the Fell. The actor’s actor. He will absolutely tell you he understudied Sir Henry Irving if you sit still long enough.
Bombalurina
The flame-red bombshell. Macavity’s possible ex. Belts the “Macavity!” number with Demeter and absolutely steals it. Played by Taylor Swift in the recent film adaptation and wrote a new song for it called ‘Beautiful Ghosts‘ which is the only good thing about the film.
She now runs a cabaret bar in Soho called Bomba’s. You can catch Demeter playing there on Thursdays.
Victoria
The pristine white kitten whose extended ballet solo opens the Jellicle Ball. Sweet, balletic, ethereal. These days she is paid on a retainer to be constantly available to cover Bonnie Langford or any of the Strallen Sisters in a show.
Forty-five years on, Cats remains one of musical theatre’s strangest miracles: a plotless, danced-through meditation on identity, memory, and the dignity of small creatures, performed by humans crawling around in unitards.
It shouldn’t work. It never should have run for two decades. And yet, every time Memory swells in the second act, the cynics in the audience always seem to find something in their eye.
I’m off to New York in a few weeks and will be seeing the brand new production of Cats, The Jellicle Ball, which sounds like an experience I won’t forget for a long time!
Happy 45th, you weird, beautiful Jellicles. May you continue to ascend for another 45 years yet.
