Brendan O'Carroll is back with part three of his hugely popular, and stupendously vulgar comedy about Mrs Agnes Brown and her family of Irish chancers.
Mammy is now a granny, to her son's triplets, and maybe soon to her gay son's muchanticipated phantom baby.
Mrs Brown combines the sheer spectacle of traditional drag with the comic sensibility of a 12 year-old boy. Puffing on endless fags she uses the f-word several times in every sentence and boasts the vulgar humour of a seaside postcard, particularly in her supposed lifelong hunger for sex and well-endowed men.
Despite the show's trademark nostalgia for mammy and the warm Irish living room, there's actually nothing typical, or female, about Agnes Brown.
In one scene Mrs Brown mistakes a condom for a piece of chewing gum, in another she stands in a cupboard unwittingly ready to wax her bikini line. In perhaps the funniest and most distasteful scene she overhears her family's concern for their smelly incontinent dog, and mistakes the animal for herself. Thereafter she rushes around as if mopping urine from the floor, and sniffing herself.
O'Carroll is smart enough to know what some of his audience are thinking, and a good part of the show is devoted to ridiculing the kind of middle-class pomposity that seeks to deconstruct women like Agnes, and comics like O'Carroll. When Mrs Brown's daughter gets a man he's a psychiatrist and writer, and a raging pretentious buffoon, called Clune, who everyone calls clown.
O'Carroll has little to fear from those who find this all utterly ridiculous. His writing is fast and funny, the plotting perfect farce and I haven't seen an audience enjoy themselves so much in a long time.
n Running time: Two hours, 45 minutes. Until May 14.