Niall Toibin is back again, at the age of 70, on the stage where, 52 years ago, he started his thespian career. He is most welcome again, with a kind of reprise of his wicked and considerable talents, on his own, peopling the stage with an array of begrudgers, the bewildered and the perfectly accented characters from his own jokes and mini-satires, and filling the theatre with the sounds, attitudes and voices of all of Ireland.

A Blasket homily delivered by Chaste Charlie to Bountiful Bertie is a gem to savour, while the interface of traditional Irish music and a branch of McDonald's hamburger joint in the Bronx leading to the invention of plastic spoons is an unforgettable re-write of the history of one long and one brief tradition from each side of the Atlantic pond.

There are fleeting and affectionate memories of the likes of Siobhan McKenna, Micheal MacLiammoir and Cecil Sheridan, a couple of readings from James Stephens and W. R. Rodgers, a brief excerpt from Jim Nolan's The Salvage Shop and much enjoyable chat about sex and religion and money and politics featuring Toibin's own authentic collection of the far-from-plain people of Ireland.

The whole is unobtrusively directed by Brian MacLochlainn in an appropriately unobtrusive setting by Karen Weavers quietly lit by Nick McCall.

There may have been some blunting of Toibin's usually perfect timing last night by a wavering uncertainty with the script, but that will be gone within the span of a further performance or two when the actor's customary sharp certainty will provide a night of vintage Toibin showing Ireland to itself.

Runs until March 25th. To book: 01-6771717