Stones In His Pockets is one of those successes you can only feel goodwill towards.

Wanting to create something cheap and instantly performable, writer Marie Jones sat down to produce a play that only needed two actors and virtually no set.

That it has now been running in the West End for more than two years and has been performed in 20 countries confirms its quality.

The story is simple: A film company is making a feature in a scenic spot near a small village in Co. Kerry and the locals are employed as extras.

Focusing on Charlie and Jake, two dreamers who haven't quite managed to make much of their lives, the play shows us the impact of the film company on the village and its people.

Sharp lines and brilliant character observation mean our ribs are repeatedly tickled, even if the story doesn't always completely satisfy.

Not that it's a bad story, but the second act takes a tonal swerve that is at odds with the hilarity of the first act and the end ties things up too neatly to be true.

But these are minor complaints and are more than made up for by the play's form.

There may be only two actors, Hugh Lee and Malcolm Adams, but they play a total 15 characters. The dexterity and deftness with which they slip in and out of roles without so much as a single prop or a costume change is so impressive it would almost be worth coming for this alone.

Rumours abound about this being made into a film but as so much of the play's success is generated by the nature of the performances how this would translate on to the screen is debatable.

What isn't up for discussion is the widespread appeal of the story.

Those 20 countries it has been exported to include Japan, Sweden and Argentina.

They may have had to translate it but, apart from that, the play has remained unchanged, despite some specific Irish references.

Perhaps this is because we can all so easily recognise this Hollywood tale. More likely, it's international success lies in Jake and Charlie's very universal ability to dream.

For tickets, call 01273 328488.

by Louise Ramsay, features@theargus.co.uk