Most people would be chuffed to win the Perrier Award. Not Daniel Kitson.

"It's all bull**** really," says the 25-year-old comic. "It's irrelevant. It genuinely means nothing to me that a panel of ten people thought I had the best show.

"It's dangerous and wrong to objectify comedy and order it in terms of what's best.

"There are all sorts of ideological and artistic problems with the whole thing but you get backed into a corner and you can't say you don't want to be part of it because, if you do, it looks like a publicity stunt."

Then again, it's not like he needed the publicity that comes with the Perrier.

His reputation has grown in two or three years into a huge buzz akin to that surrounding the release of Radiohead's OK Computer. Moreover, it's a buzz built on reason, not hype.

His skill at improvising and chatting with the crowd is legendary and is bettered only by the mighty Ross Noble.

Kitson shifted his act into more thoughtful territory, a move necessary for his first full-length (and award-winning) Edinburgh show, Love, Innocence And The Word Cock.

He says: "At one point, I was doing puns. Then I was doing a lot of improvisation and lot of chat with the audience but now I tend to do a fair bit of introspective stuff and stuff about feelings and humanity and how that lets us down.

"I didn't want my first Edinburgh show to be all saying to people, "What's your name? Where are you from? What do you do?" That would be really dull and easy.

"I'd far rather people judge me on something I'm proud of. Moving my act away from that was a conscious choice."

His views are forthright and well-reasoned and his observations thoughtful - not in a foppish, moody Jeff "Boo-Hoo" Buckley way but more like Charles Bukowski, bruised yet hopeful.

With Kitson, swearing is an artform. Although he does swear a lot, none of it seems gratuitous because he usually confines it to adjectives, adverbs and pronouns thus using it to inform and colour the material.

To say Kitson is crude would be to misunderstand him and ignore his sheer breathtaking inventiveness with slang.

He's got a good take on self-deprecating humour - well he would, looking like an shambling Seventies throw-back with Coke-bottle glasses and a slight stutter.

He paints himself the loser in most situations in a matter-of-fact way rather than the pathos-laden approach taken by Johnny Vegas, one of his comedy heroes.

He looks every bit the misfit and his observations are definitely from the perspective of someone who watches from the sidelines but he doesn't see himself as an outsider.

"It's always a bit dangerous to say 'I'm an outsider'. I wouldn't say I was because I'm perfectly happy being where I am and who I am.

"About 90 per cent of comedy on the circuit is bad. But then 90 per cent of TV is bad and 90 per cent of most things are bad.

"The reason there's all this bad stuff is because 90 per cent of people are idiots who think it's great. I don't do topical material because I don't think I have the skill to do it well.

"When political comedy is done well it's amazing but the problem is too many people do it really badly. They walk on and just say, 'So this war with Iraq. George Bush. Bush sounds a bit like fanny'.

"If one more person walks on and quotes some of the stupid things he has said I'm going to shoot them. We all know he's stupid so what are they actually bringing to the table? What's their unique comedic view on it? They haven't got one."

Kitson has wanted to be a stand-up since he was a teenager growing up in Denby Dale, Yorkshire. He did his first gig at 16 and, in the same year, became the youngest ever finalist in the Daily Telegraph Open Mic competition. He went to university in London, partly to study drama but mainly for gigs.

He cut his teeth doing open spots and honed his skills compereing the new act night at the Comedy Cafe.

He turned pro in 1998 and was nominated for the Perrier in 2001, won the Time Out comedy award in 2002 and appeared as Spencer in Peter Kay's Phoenix Nights.

He is in the running for the South Bank comedy prize.

But with Kitson it's not about prizes, money or fame.

"I just want to become a very good comedian," he explains. "So when people talk about very good comedians, I'm somewhere in the midst. I'd like to be the best stand-up.

"But my dream was only ever to be a comedian who could afford to buy new PlayStation games rather than second-hand ones. So, in a way, I've already made it."

Kitson is very much the man of the moment and lesser comics would get to this level and cruise. But his commitment to quality will push him into new areas.

He'll either drive himself mad in the process or achieve his ambition and become the funniest man who ever lived.

Show starts 8pm. Tickets £12/£10 concs. Call 01273 709709.