Scottish Opera ends its 2012-13 season with a lively co-production of The Pirates of Penzance with the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, directed by Martin Lloyd-Evans. Like most of Gilbert & Sullivan's operas, it boasts a particularly silly plot hinging on (a) the confusion of near-homophones 'pilot' and 'pirate', (b) leap-birthdays and (c) orphanhood.

The overture, played to a blue drop which ripples like the sea, is crisply played by the Scottish Opera orchestra, conducted by John Owen Edwards. Lest there be any doubt, a map of the extreme southwest of Cornwall appears, and an elongated sea-snail shell points to the location of Penzance. The curtain rises on the pirates' brig, on the day that the rather bookish Frederick (Nicholas Sharratt) completes his apprenticeship as a pirate.

As the story unfolds, the lurching back in amazement at every disclosure verges on the tedious, so it is with relief that we follow Frederick onto land, where young ladies are climbing over rocky mountain to the shore. And very elegant they are, in their creamy white dresses, hats and parasols. Tuneful as well, so it is unsurprising that Frederick, deprived hitherto of female beauty, should fall for them.

The equally bookish Mabel is the only one to reciprocate. In the coloratura passages in 'Poor wand'ring one' Stephanie Corley conveys petulance and surprise, not just vocal gymnastics. Steve Elias's choreography of the sisters talking about the weather while Mabel and Frederick exchange sweet nothings is as deliciously busy and inconsequential as the music and words it is fitted to.

The girls' papa, Major-General Stanley (Richard Suart), in tropical whites and pith helmet, arrives just in time to save the girls from being carried off by the wifeless pirates. Eschewing the opportunity to update the lyrics of his patter-song, he rattles it off - though the orchestra beat him by half a bar in the first verse …

The highlight of the Act 1 finale is the parodic 'Hail, Poetry', beautifully and precisely sung by the ensemble, while the letters of the two words hang behind them. In Act 2, the performance - or is it just the opera itself - cranks up a notch, with the arrival of the constabulary. Sergeant of Police Graeme Broadbent has legs which go on for ever and are infinitely flexible for his silly walks.

Following the disclosures to Frederick by his nursemaid Ruth (Rosie Aldridge) and Pirate King Steven Page of 'A paradox', Corley sings 'Ah, leave me not to pine' as if her heart is breaking. The pirates' cat-like tread is loud and gutsy, the police use gravestones as riot-shields, the head of Queen Victoria descends with a speech-bubble 'slaves of duty'. Colin Grenfell's lighting highlights jokey set details, clearly designed by Jamie Vartan for future touring. The pirates, nobles who have gone wrong, are restored to their ermine gowns, the girls now happy to marry them.

Judging by the profile of the audience and its enthusiastic response, there's a place for such productions in the company's audience-building plans.