Simon Munnery delivered most of his show from an armchair, his left arm wrapped in a pink tartan sling. Nerve damage, he explained.

Munnery gets annoyed when critics give away his one-liners but maybe he won't mind me repeating his friend's from the Edinburgh Festival: "Is this the first time you've worn a kilt then, Simon?"

Munnery's own gags are from a different dimension altogether. Such as: "I was walking down the road. Which road? They're all the same road. If a road isn't connected to other roads, it's a runway."

The former Alan Parker: Urban Warrior is a master of the off-kilter observation. Which made this game of two halves all the more annoying.

For the first half of the show Munnery performed sit-down stand-up, hairpin-turning from his experience of orchidectomy to why dogs don't eat dogs to the tragic irony of Rod Hull.

Without a break, he then read a monologue based on Sherlock Holmes. Recited at speed, it left me shifting restlessly in my seat, listening to what sounded like a nerdy schoolboy essay.

After the first half, I wanted to take Munnery out for a pint and a dose of his cockeyed logical rambling. After the second half, I wished I had.

Review by Nigel Davies-Patrick, features@theargus.co.uk