This show is not so much an evening of drama as a socio-sexual phenomenon, and the phenomenon is more evident in the audience than on the stage. The stage stuff is harmless enough: a quartet of dim and dizzy females on a hens' night out surprise and are surprised by a quartet of strutting male near-strippers at a neighbourhood skin club. The unsurprising plot is about who knows whom, and to what extent, and the format is a kind of over-extended burlesque sketch interspersed with scenes of male striptease which amounts to about two-and-a-half hours of talking dirty.

The audience on Monday night was much more interesting. Overwhelmingly female, it created a great deal more noise than even the painfully high decibel amplification of the production. All squeals and screams, it was, punctuated by frequent heavy footfalls when the actors fell to just talking on stage as people drifted to and from either the bars or the toilets. They did not need to be told, as they were repetitively, that the more noise they made the more flesh they would see, and they could hardly be blamed for their escapes from the generally witless dialogue. Indeed, the numerous vocal interjections from the auditorium were frequently funnier than the scripted contrivances of Dave Simpson and Paul Farrah.

Central to the whole theatrical exchange was a kind of pre-scripted fantasy, recognised by the actors and authors and whole-heartedly embraced by their interactive audience, as to what sexual relationships are supposed to be about in today's sex-distorted world.

But no matter: this was no more than an evening of raunchy craic clearly enjoyed hugely by its packed and eager audience. This reviewer must admit to having fled during the final scene when the decibel levels got too high to bear. Runs until February 21st. To book phone 01-6771717.