Theatre is not about literature, at least not the way he sees it, says young Dublin playwright Mark O'Rowe: "It's about stories, individual stories and the lives we live."

Opinionated, funny, confident but with a sense of realism born of a few bad experiences, his tone is wry, not defiant: "There should be workshops given for young people interested in writing plays, you know, with someone there to tell them about what not to do." He seems a good natured character, light years removed from the "don't mess with me" lads, hardened yet vulnerable who inhabit Howie the Rookie. Already a success in London's Bush Theatre, Mike Bradwell's London production of Rowe's second play will have its Irish premiere at the opening of the impressive new Civic Theatre in Tallaght.

The play consists of two monologues, the individual accounts of their respective lives as witnessed by two bewildered victims, Howie Lee and the Rookie Lee. The work has all the raw force and colour of spoken speech.

As Howie says of his father: "Cycle 15 miles to work and back every day. Got a bad ticker, was told to take it easy or die, so he saved for a car. Saved, went without, like sacrificed. Walkin' by Harry Moore's one day, saw a handicam. Now, has the handicam, f...k the car, f...k the ticker, f...k life, full f...kin' stop."

O'Rowe's clipped use of the vernacular is authentic and has an internal rhythm of its own. He admits some of the words are of his own making. The lives described are harsh, the characters are reactive. The Howie Lee sets the scene: "Smoke. Black smoke ahead there, north end of the field. . . " A well-used mattress is finally being laid to rest. "You're a bloke and you're game, you can kip in the bed with him. Game meaning gay, neither of which I am, furthest thing from, so I go the mat. Or did." It is a tough street setting, but while there are echoes of Mannix Flynn's ferociously eloquent, autobiographical one man show, Talking to the Wall, these monologues are less lyrical and could be set anywhere in the world.

Above all, lest any critic fall into the trap, and some already have, O'Rowe is not interested in social commentary. "I leave that to news stories and social workers, I've no political agenda. These characters are watching their own lives. They aren't ranting, they are relaying to the audience what is happening as it happens. It's like watching a movie," he says, determined to avoid a social realist label.

Interestingly, Mike Bradwell, a Yorkshire man whose work with Irish writers includes the first production of Enda Walsh's Disco Pigs which debuted at the Bush, and an adaptation of the Dalkey Archive, says he approached directing the work as if it were a movie. "It does have a cinematic effect, although it's all spoken. It's fascinating watching the way people in the audience react to the violent bits. They close their eyes as if they are actually witnessing these acts. But they're not, they're hearing them."

The new theatre is an exciting space, complete with retractable seats which shoot out of the darkness with a anarchic whirling sound like something from Dr Who. Built to the light, a sunny morning is showing off its many advantages. It has the confidence of a new beginning, even at the moment with busy workmen and not a performer in sight, there is a feeling of life, new energy. Standing on the empty new stage, how does O'Rowe feel about having his play poised to introduce a new theatre? "I'm thrilled, I'm from here. It means a lot."

Bradwell can remember his two visits to the theatre, "I was wearing a hard hat, it was a building site covered in mud." Looking back now he concedes a pair of leopard-skin brothel creepers was probably not the most suitable footwear. When he received O'Rowe's script, Bradwell acted quickly, coming to Ireland where he cast two young Dublin actors, Karl Shiels and Aidan Kelly. The production opened in London on February 10th and ran for five weeks to very good reviews. "Which means they'll probably hate it here," says O'Rowe jokingly. Both he and Bradwell agree that the initial reaction of some audience members was bewilderment at the language. "Then they just settled into it," says Bradwell, "it could be Manchester or Liverpool", the ear adjusts and the stories take over.

The Bush has been good for Irish theatre; it is where Billy Roche began. O'Rowe says something about Irish writers being able to do no wrong in London at the moment. But there is more to this success than luck. "I've read a couple of Billy Roche's plays, I liked them a lot," he says. Born and reared in Tallaght, the eldest of four, where did wide-faced, lightening-quick Mark O' Rowe the playwright come from? "I was just interested in writing plays. I've written lots. Two have been done professionally. I love it. You are always learning." One of the largest population centres in Ireland and certainly one of the fastest growing in Europe, Tallaght is constantly expanding; what was it like when O'Rowe was growing up? "It was mad; as wild as any place is, all the usual things. I don't write about myself, but any writer draws from things they have experienced, or seen, or even heard about".

At school he was not particularly drawn to literature. College didn't appeal to him either. "I left school and did a succession of nothing jobs, writing all the time". Cinema was always important to him. His conversation is full of references to movies. According to him, the two characters in the play direct their monologues to the audience. "Of course I had their voices in my head" but the tone came later, after he heard the actors. Read off the page, the monologues move in sharp, vividly-described scenes. "When I heard the actors I realised they spoke to the audience, they make the audience complicit".

It is this sense of complicity which explains why director and playwright quickly realised there is a third character involved in this play, the audience.

There are no prizes for guessing that David Mamet has been an important influence. O'Rowe's face lights up and then he says, "you'd better not write that, everyone is influenced by Mamet". There is another presence, admittedly far more subconscious, that of Damon Runyon. O'Rowe was aiming for a slightly surreal effect, lives out of kilter but still earth bound by realities, such as a girl with a job at the local supermarket with a brother who may be a son.

There are plenty of shocks as well as humour. Above all there is the eloquence of rage and fear. The essential difference between the two characters is confidence. Sex is used as something to barter with. But O'Rowe, who may be writing a novel next, is not making any particular statement about how men treat women. "Men treat women badly; women treat men badly. We all act badly". For him detail and plot devices are ways of placing his characters in situations. Sexual metaphor abounds. What is Bradwell's reaction to suggestions that the earthiness of the language will offend some theatregoers? "That's simple. Anyone who is shocked by the language shouldn't attend theatre. Theatre is about situations, not words".

Howie The Rookie opens at the Civic Theatre, Tallaght on Tuesday night. Further information from: 01-6798476