Exhausted. That was how I felt at the end of Tap Dogs.

Pre-pubescent girls and coiffured grannies joined together to squeal with girlish glee as six sweaty "construction workers" pummelled the ground with their steel-toed (and heeled) boots for the best part of an hour and a half.

The only thing missing was a builder's bum.

The show was created by Australian dancer Dein Perry, who learned to tap as a boy in Newcastle, a steel town north of Sydney, where he worked for a while as an industrial machinist.

After a few years dancing in Broadway-style productions, Perry decided to create a contemporary show based on his industrial experiences.

He contacted five of his Newcastle tap-dancing buddies and formed Tap Brothers, the predecessor of Tap Dogs.

The Tap Dogs company performing at the Dome has only one Australian (the other members being trained in such exotic places as Essex and Farnborough) and I don't think any of them have actually earned a crust on a construction site - but no matter.

They did a darn good job of looking like blue-collar workers, right down to the sweaty brows.

The boys worked hard to make the most of their limited construction site set. They clambered about on scaffolding, played with welding equipment and even hoisted up one of the cast in a harness for a spot of upside-down footwork.

There were some very witty moments and you couldn't fault the dancing or the energy.

Forget Fred Astaire's gentle twirls and Gene Kelly's nimble moves, the Tap Dogs did it hard. Real hard.

This was tap dancing with a capital T (also for Testosterone). If you ever thought a man couldn't look masculine dancing, think again.

Being a bit of a girl myself, I found the prog rock-style score coupled with the group's incredibly loud, over-amplified tapping almost unbearable at times. It was definitely during the calmer (and music free) moments of the show that I really appreciated the technique and control of the dancers.

The precision and clarity of the steps was very impressive, though the thought of tapping on steel panels made me clench my teeth - don't try it at home: Your knees will never forgive you.

For tickets call 01273 709709.