The quality of material served up by rookie Luke Benson is still far from consistent, even though he certainly has a handful of appealing lines. But he’s hampered by an apparent lack of confidence that does him few favours.

He might be right to be embarrassed by some of his puns – the sort that would surely be too creaky even for a tabloid headliner-writer - but if you’re going to serve up this brand of comedy, then you should do so with lashings of cheese, not an almost apologetic coyness.

But it’s not just the weaker gags he undersells. Alongside the wordplay are some corking lines he has every right to be proud of, yet these, too, tend to be told with unwarranted hesitancy.

In the end, his writing will out. Benson has one of the best ‘I know what you’re thinking, he looks like…’ openings around, and his set has a liberal sprinkling of inventive imagery on everything from 50 Cent to his own weediness. There are plenty of signs of encouragement here – and the fact the whole set is pulled together in a neat conclusion shows he’s thinking bigger than standalone gags or straightforward observation.

More gigs will surely toughen his delivery; then the top lines can come into their own.