Twentyman is one of those newish acts who likes to chat to punters. Not necessarily to engage them in genuine dialogue; more so they can act as a foil for his rehearsed lines.

Assuming his silent partners in the audience to be gay, on drugs, or –worse – malnourished students, he chucks out the familiar broad insults. In fact, he’s not even beyond putting the geriatric heckle putdown, ‘Shut up… mum’ at the heart of a whole extended routine.

Aside from this, there are some self-pitying gripes which form the funnier segment of his set: “You don’t know how hard my life is,” he bitterly moans. Which would be wonderful had fellow St Helens resident Johnny Vegas not done this spiel before, and so definitively to render Twentyman’s version a poor imitation.

For all this, he’s not unenjoyable. He’s just not distinctive.