If you're one of those people for whom rap is missing an initial C, get along to Rap ╔ire. All the genre's sawn-off staccato heroic couplets need is a viable target, and the Republic's economic boom is still up to the job.

Co-writers and performers Des Bishop and Arthur Riordan give a near-frenzied satiric mauling to everything in contemporary Ireland we love to hate, from tribunals and property prices to Eircom shares and back-handed brown envelopes, all set to ingenious rap rhymes with spitfire delivery.

Renee Weldon almost steals the show as Ciarogin - Celtic Tiger Woman - but Riordan, doubling as Mick ╙g O'Vickillane, the obnoxious TD for Cadgemore and the Machiavellian ghost of de Valera, steals it right back, only to have it yanked from under his nose by Bishop as the naive anti-hero who falls foul of their scheming. Relieved of it in turn by Joe Hanly and Fiona Condon, all five jostle uproariously for the lion's share of the theft.

Although it bristles with energy, the show just manages in its climactic moments to swerve from the precipice of audience participation. That dreaded appeal - "come on now, everybody!" - isn't flung at the audience, although you couldn't be blamed for getting caught up in the excitement - those of a nervous disposition should avoid the front row.

Live mixing by DJ Lee and dexterous use of 1916 film footage, with director Jimmy Fay's rapid turnover of scenes and situations, give the show an unstoppable momentum.

Runs until August 4th (01-6795720)