I arrived at the Project at the early time of 6 p.m., and left some 40 minutes later in a disorientated condition. The cause of my confusion was - although I believe the responsibility should be shared around - a young man named John Byrne, author and performer of an alleged entertainment called A Border Worrier.

It opens with an amusing play on words. John's father had told him about the border at an early age. He would have perfectly natural thoughts about it as he grew older, nothing to be ashamed of. Later on, he straddled it, lay on it, even interfered with it in his young manhood. Just part of ordinary living.

The first serious apprehension set in when our host dived into the wings and re-emerged with two buckets and a barrow-load of border, which he emptied on the stage. A couple of toys, an army observation post and a helicopter, were then produced, and some boyish game-playing ensued. A downhill slide had begun.

More whimsy took us to the flatlands, where he emptied a bucket of (holy) water over his head, told us he was a watered-down something-or-other, was partitioned from the audience (bucket still over head) and offered a few thoughts. He would, for instance, still worry about the border even if it was gone; it might reappear somewhere else to upset another homogenous group, perhaps in England. The narrative was occasionally supplemented by a series of slides with a common gimmick: the performer's head was superimposed on others in the photos.

These complemented my initial amusement, which lasted for maybe 10 optimistic minutes. From then on I could discern little of wit, telling commentary or, fatally, entertainment; only a ho-hum monologue erected on those inferior paving materials, good intentions.