If anyone still believes the myth that alternative comedy saw off the practice of comics lazily sharing around the same generic jokes, Dom Carroll should be just the wake-up call you need.

From his opening gag about the backdrop (‘last tine I saw curtains like that, we never saw my nan again’) to his sign-off (‘I am available for children’s parties’) his tired set is just one hackneyed old line after another.

‘It’s nice to be here, but then I was in last night, so it’s good to be anywhere’; Cornwall is full of inbreds where a virgin is ‘any girl who can run faster than her dad’; any Scousers in? So that’s one less robbing your DVD; legalise cannabis marches? What are they all about, eh? The man has not got an original thought in his head.

One gag about ‘Why did Princess Diana cross the road?’ is identical to a joke Howard Read has been performing on the circuit for the past couple of years. It might be no more than synchronicity, but given Carroll’s obvious lake of originality, doubts will inevitably be raised.

This Liverpool-based Manchunian does have one half-decent routine to call his own, a sick chunk about Harold Shipman and other serial killers, which demonstrates a gloriously cruel streak.

But it’s only one segment in a routine that goes no further than obvious stereotypes pandering to dull prejudices. It’s at its worst when he derides the French for surrendering in the war in a demonstration of unpleasant rabble-rousing bigotry that would do the most right-wing tabloid editor proud.

He’s an OK performer, but one who contributes absolutely nothing of worth to the art of comedy.