It seems you can’t so much as pitch a pint of Guinness across a room these day without clocking a McCourt – or at least one of their devotees. First, Frank McCourt’s memoir about his poverty-stricken upbringing in Brooklyn and Ireland, Angeles Ashes, rode the best-seller list for a remarkable 100 weeks (it will be a movie soon). His brother Malachy currently boasts his own best-selling memoir, A Monk Swimming, and Malachy’s son, Conor, has immortalized the once-down-trodden family in a documentary, The McCourts of Limerick. Plus, nearly everyone who went to Stuyvesant High School seems to claim Frank as a mentor. If you are one of the few who know what a "blaguard" is -- it’s a rowdy, good-natured rascal – then you might guess that this show presents the lighter side of the McCourt family saga. In fact, with it’s well-placed songs, wickedly funny characterizations and shticky comedic routines, A Couple of Blaguards is often down-right vaudevillian. The fellows are first-rate performers well up to the exigencies of the entertaining, fast-paced first act, much of which concerns the peculiar morbidity of the Catholic Church in Ireland. Duffin, for example, plays Grandma in hysterics because, following his First Communion, little Frank vomited on the ground behind her house. "I got God in my backyard" she shrieks. The McCourts and their stories have captured our fancy, to be sure. What makes A Couple of Blaguards such a treat is that it was first written and performed by the brothers McCourt in the 1980s, before all the hoopla, and served as the inspiration for Angeles Ashes and so lovable are those best-selling blaguard McCourts.  By Laura Jamison Back