Though he starts well, with a nice line about his seemingly unremarkable name, Howe's routine quickly goes south - in both senses of the metaphor.

For the rest of this newcomer's set is steadfastly based below the belt, comprising endless and largely pointless references to his genitalia.

Such material provokes plenty of reflex laughs - in fact, it's depressingly well received - but there's really nothing on offer here. Not even knob gags, just bollock references.