Lucy Porter has to be one of the loveliest act on the circuit. It takes just a few seconds of her gossipy, effervescent charm before everyone wants to be her friend.

But 'lovely' only gets you so far in comedy, and thankfully Porter has the substance to back it up, with some sharp, barbed observations concealed in her easy-going, chatty style. The fact she presents the material so lightly can be deceptive - but there is some delightful stuff here.

She chats breezily and flirtily, with a self-deprecating, butter-wouldn't-melt charm as she effortlessly recounts her anecdotes. She paints herself as being at once girly and wicked, feeling guilty for her naughty actions and impure thoughts - but not guilty enough to stop her sharing them with us.

She also heaps plenty of cynicl scorn on some of the topics of the day, sometimes with the usual subtlety, sometimes just by calling Robert  Kilroy-Silk "an orange-faced twat", The surprising, atypical bluntness works like a charm.

It's hard to imagine any audience who would be immune to Porter's spell.