JOE ROONEY, PATRICK McDONNELL (Milano Restaurant, Dawson Street, Dublin)

SMOKING OR non-smoking? Stand-up or sit down? Comedy or non-comedy? Yup, Sunday night diners at Milano’s on Dawson Street are currently spoiled for choice, with the Dawson Street eatery being the only place of its kind in the country currently catering for those who feel obliged to bring their partners out for a romantic dinner but who don’t want to have to speak to them.

For this purpose, Milano is ideal, although few comedians would earmark a restaurant as their ideal choice of venue, not least because of the myriad distractions to be seen and heard from the old wooden pallet which serves as the makeshift stage: the sight of waiting staff roaming the floor, the incessant clatter of cutlery on plates and occasional heckles from a particularly raucous cappuccino machine would, under normal circumstances, be enough to drive even the most tolerant funnyman around the twist, but surprisingly, with the exception of a few near-death experiences, this Sabbath day slot has, to date, been phenomenally successful.

Rich Hall mentioned in a recent Hot Press interview that the key to comedic success is for the performer to wax lyrical on subjects he or she is sure their audience doesn’t want to hear about. Joe Rooney is obviously a graduate of the Montana Monkey Boy’s school of stand-up, and he elicited much laughter, as well as a series of “oohs”, “aahs” and “ughs” by conversing at length on such savoury subjects as calf scour, mange mites in cattle and the smell of slurry in rural Ireland. Joe’s particular speciality is that he doesn’t have one, so it’s no surprise that his bewildering array of styles – occasionally laconic, at times infectiously manic, and always rivetting – coupled with his years of experience have made him one of Ireland’s “10 Most Wanted”, when promoters nationwide pick up their phones.

Patrick McDonnell was next to take a stand in front of the impressive scarlet backdrop, regaling all and sundry with tales of his Co. Louth upbringing. His stand-up persona isn’t entirely removed from that of Eoin McLove, the petulant Daniel O’Donnell-esque singer he portrayed in the last series of Father Ted. (The part was written especially for him.) His coup de grace is a true account of his father’s appearance on Quicksilver, RTE’s renowned travelling quizshow hosted back in the seventies by Bunny Carr and his musical sidekick, stormin’ Norman Metcalfe. Not content with bagging the usual derisory cupla phingin (a correct answer on Quicksilver being worth 5p), McDonnell the elder scooped the star prize: a three-in-one stereo. More than a few pizzas remained undisturbed as, in his own inimitable way, Patrick fondly recalled the glorious occasion, while a number of punters threatened to choke on their pepperoni as, time and again, his casually lobbed guffaw grenades scored direct hits.

• Barry Glendenning