ON one level this is just a cocktail of all the things that make white trash folks so, well . . . trashy. Country music, vulgarity, profanity, a complete lack of subtlety, crass comedy, stereotyping, and camp humour bordering on homophobia.

It's a great show though.

Set in the wild Western club, the Drum-Chap-L (ho, ho), Hearts is an endearing romp through the country classics held together by gallus patter and a cast of dysfunctional sex addicts (well, they would be if they could get any) of both sexes, a range of ages, and pretty much all persuasions.

Unsubtle, the jokes may be, but there's another one along every 10 seconds. Yes, the characters are stereotypes, but we all recognise them. Performed by a very able cast they're an extremely

well-defined bunch who cover pretty much all the bases.

Dean Park's the star. Despite being dressed for the majority of the show in a white rubberised affair somewhere between ''Vegas Elvis'' and ''first day at the abattoir'', he belts out all the tunes required of him to a consistently high standard. Indeed, on the torch songs (Wind Beneath My Wings, in particular) - he has the nearly full house in the palm of his hands. But the quality of the supporting cast makes this a true group effort.

Shows like these are never going to change the world. But the Pavilion isn't about theatre, it's about entertainment. And if you've got a drop of white trash blood in you at all, if you've ever been to the Grand Old Opry and agonised because you've enjoyed it on anything other than strictly ironic terms, then you'll like this show. You could go and see it and not smile once or fail to tap your feet. But you'd be dead. Shame.