SOME are born to it, some have it thrust upon them, but milking the DHSS system is something practically ingrained in the great British psyche. Amazingly, and at his first attempt at stage farce, Cooney - son of Ray, godfather of British farce - has managed to turn the great British social security fiddle into a stream of comic mayhem and laughter-titillation that hasn't been seen at the Whitehall since John Wells's Anyone for Dennis.

Cooney's trick spins endlessly and topically around an unemployed East End electrician (made redundant by the Electricity Board's privatisation) trying to delay exposure of his successful ``liberation'' of benefits.

All of which leads to predictable and by today's standards, outrageous gags on transvestism, (oh larks), breast-fondling and crutch-grabbing (a decidedly questionable variation on Tourette's Syndrome) and the obligatory tweed-suited dykey DHSS superior.

Despite all this, Cash on Delivery still had me laughing like a drain. Call me unrepetant but it's good to be reminded there are few things in life as enjoyable as watching an expert crew going through the comic hoops with strait-faced perfection.

The Cooneys' (father directs) glorious and frothy concoction involving officials and relatives at ever-increasing cross-purposes surprisingly managed to do just that.

Led by TV favourites Bradley Walsh and Nick Wilton alongside comedy veterans such as Frank Thornton and Brian Murphy, Cooney fils seems set to inherit father's mantle with no trouble.