Populated by misfits and miscreants all digging for the truth, A Skull in Connemara is a blasphemously funny whodunit set in rural western Ireland complete with flying skulls and bloody mallets. Martin McDonagh’s plays (The Pillowman, The Lonesome West) are undeniable favorites of the Jobsite faithful, and the company is thrilled to once again bring his signature dark wit, kooky characters, on-stage mayhem, and crackling dialogue back home.

Mick Dowd is hired one week a year to disinter the bones in certain sections of the local cemetery in Leenane (a small town in County Galway, Ireland) to make way for the new arrivals. As the time approaches for him to dig up those of his own late wife, strange rumors surrounding his involvement in her sudden death seven years ago begin to resurface.

If the name Mick Dowd sounds familiar it is because he has been gossiped about in the other plays. Leenane is a tight-knit but badly fraying community where everyone knows (or thinks they know) everyone else’s business. You’ll hear about Mag Folan, freshly murdered by her daughter Maureen, the ironically nicknamed title character of The Beauty Queen of Leenane.

You’ll also be reminded of Ray Dooley’s extralegal exploits, as well as the ministrations of the young priest Father Welsh (“Walsh? Welsh!”). The latter is so despairing of his flock in this God-forsaken place that he drowns himself after having burned his hands to “skitter” in the molten wax of boiling Catholic figurines — a last desperate measure to get the violent Connor bothers to stop beating the hell out of each other after the murder of their father in The Lonesome West.