Guy Mitchell’s Dog’s Dead – Pass It On … a child’s quite innocent understanding of growing up in 1970’s Ballybeen estate (Lyric Theatre until Sunday 2 February)

At the start of Guy Mitchell’s Dog’s Dead – Pass It On, a wiry figure bounces onto the stage, giving a goofy wave to the audience. Sammy’s a real chatterbox, and he’s got lots of stories to share about his perspectives on living in the Ballybeen housing estate in Dundonald.

We hear about life through a ten-year old’s eyes, sometimes accurately picking up the vibe of what’s happening, sometimes seeing serious matters (like the men walking around the estate looking for people to play baseball) through the naïve eyes of a youngster who’s at risk of growing up too fast.

Over the course of two hours, we hear how Sammy discovers death, paramilitaries, hormones – he’s at that age when the hairless thing between his legs is of growing interest – as well as an actual snake, Blondie, homophobia, sectarianism … and yes, the circumstances around the death of Guy Mitchelldog.

It’s a gymnastic performance that oozes nervous energy as Kealan McAllister hunkers down, jumps around, and manages to race around the stage while still delivering lines in a calm voice. Just over two and a half years ago, McAllister was on the same stage as part of the Lyric Drama Studio’s great production of Blue Stockings. Now he’s getting a well-deserved break and owning this one man show.

McAllister brings to life an enormous cast of local characters, including his best mate Space Bucket who provides a left-field angle to events (a lad too young to even know about smoking weed but still sounds part mellow part confused).

We laugh a lot. But we laugh along with Sammy rather than at him, and while ‘the Been’ and loyalism provide much to tickle us, Sam Robinson’s script never asks us to be judgemental.

Several things raise the performance beyond cheap laughs. The juvenile characterisation is never broken: the nose-picking is childish but brilliant. Trevor Gill’s direction allows wee Sammy to look puzzled, pause and then change the subject when he comes across something he can’t quite explain: like his description of what adults would recognise as the sounds of domestic abuse and likely sexual assault leaking out of an upstairs flat.

From just a few minutes into the play, the audience instinctively join in with song snippets and answering questions that aren’t allowed to remain rhetorical, enthusiastically engaging with the lone performer and showing a lot of love. And McAllister then milks this generous spirit into a frenzy as he related a tales of dromedary turds, animal liberation, and sectarian crisps.

McAllister’s piano skills add live music to proceedings when he’s visiting his Granny Maggie’s house and bashes out some Elton John on the ivories: I’d a great aunt who also defied the laws of physics and geometry by squeezing an upright piano into a front room when her front door and hallway clearly wouldn’t allow it.

There’s no shortage of Troubles’ drama. But little has been written from the perspective of a child of such a tender ago who hasn’t yet grown up: most is framed as retrospective.

Dundonald and Ballybeen are no strangers to comedy and theatre. The Dundonald Liberation Army are bringing Lockdown DLA back to The MAC this June. That’s a sitcom with a couple of man children trapped in a flat, whereas Robinson’s play gives voice to an actual child roaming around the whole estate delivering what is almost a one boy stand-up comedy routine.

While Tony Macaulay’s books (three of which have been converted into musicals) tell of his upbringing in the Upper Shankill/West Belfast, Sam Robinson’s is a wise man who came from the East. Essays could be written comparing Macaulay’s clean-cut approach with Robinson’s very earthy recollections. And it’s also interesting to contrast the style and patter of Leesa Harker’s loyalist Maggie (whose ‘trilogy’ in four parts is still running in The MAC) with the cussing and as yet sexually immature Sammy.

Guy Mitchell’s Dog’s Dead – Pass It On is full of snatters, innocence and misadventure. Sam Robinson is a fine writer and the forthcoming teenage tales of Sammy are much anticipated. It’s a Cock & Hens Productions in association with Bright Umbrella. The run finishes on Sunday 2 February in the Lyric Theatre and at the time of writing there are a just a handful of single seats left. Don’t let them go to waste.

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