Going Dutch

Fewer than ever travel to the continent by ferry these days and here's why: beery stag parties rolling aboard at Hull; dodgy Neil Diamond impersonators in the lounge bar; breakfast calls at 6am ...

John Godber has endured the sex tourists and sickbags on the overnight crossing between Rotterdam and Hull many times and spews it all out here with stomach-churning fidelity. The wonder is that Hull Truck has persuaded P&O Ferries to sponsor the production rather than sue.

Godber first covered the queasy sensation of being trapped aboard a floating motorway service station 10 years ago with April in Paris. But Going Dutch is more mature, following a group of college friends who have sailed past their 50th birthdays and booked tickets for a Springsteen concert in Amsterdam to recapture their lost youth.

It's been a mixed blessing watching Godber shuffle towards his pipe-and-slippers phase - his recent plays have acquired a philosophical depth largely absent from his earlier works, yet lack the hot-headed aggression that fired them up.

Here he solves the problem by introducing the unreconstructed Karl, a beefy, semi-psychotic former roadie who tags along to antagonise the old folk as if a character from Bouncers has come back to annoy them.

Suddenly Godber's comedy has an edge to it again, as James Hornsby's complacently middle-class Mark squares up to Rob Hudson's knuckle-headed goading. Jackie Lye delivers a touching performance as an overripe rock chick oblivious to the indignity of being mutton dressed in leather; but the best work comes from Gemma Craven, who giggles through the best stoned monologue by a middle-aged woman who ought to know better that I have ever seen.

There has been a mellowing to Godber's work as he has got older, and here he has allowed himself to get very mellow indeed.

· Until January 22. Box office: 01482 323638.