The electoral count is underway in Strollinstown. Local property baron, Richie Brendan Grace is running for Council, even as Phase 3 of his empire - Nuggetstown – is collapsing into the credit crunch. Brittle wife, Bev, when not festooning her home in “Celtic Pizazz”, is planning her wardrobe as First Lady of Strollinstown; and Richie's suave advisor, Les Mervin Snr has just knocked out Sister Ger with a whiskey bottle. His long-suffering (34-year old) son, Leslie Mervin Jnr looks on, fed up with being compared to household fixtures. Crooked councillors, ghost estates, dado-rails, nuns: we're in familiar territory here.

As the scenario plays out within the pastel-papered walls of the Graces' living room, Diet of Worms' first foray into the theatre space strains at the edges. Some nice timing, both verbal and physical, show this troupe to be accomplished performers; Amy Stephenson does a particularly convincing (and funny) nun. However, anachronistic touches seem unintentional – the newspaper headlines are from this week, but waiting for a call on a landline, to the strains of Alphaville, is oddly retro – and it loses energy towards the end. As an extended sketch built around comic characters, Strollinstown is slick – but lacks the satirical edge to penetrate the familiar and bring us something new.