Cameron’s a Brighton-based impressionist firmly rooted in the old school of Seventies seaside spectaculars.

He’s got a definite gift for mimicry, which he showcases in a fast-paced opening monologue notching up as many celebrity voices as he pack into a couple of short minutes. And lest you ever be in any doubt who any of them are, every character says their own name at least once, underestimating either the audience’s powers of recognition, or his own abilities.

Some of the impressions are as dated as his style: Brucie, Ian McCaskill (retired 1998), Murray Walker (retired 2001), Buster Merryfield (RIP)  – even that corniest of fallbacks, Frank Spencer. It’s possible there’s some cushion of irony around this last one, but the fact is it’s still a man saying ‘Oooh, there’s been a bit of trouble’ in that familiar, easily imitated voice.

And even when he nudges slightly more up to date, with a David Beckham or an Ozzy Osbourne, they’re employed for the broadest of formula jokes. Beckham, for instance, ponders his footballing future by singing The Clash’s Should I Stay Or Should I Go. As you can tell, we’re a long way from Rory Bremner satire territory here.

Away from the impressions, he has an unassuming stage manner and a few rather jolly, innocuous jokes that work very well; most notably one that sees him quacking around the stage like a demented duck for what seems like an age before unveiling a very neat payoff in character.

Cameron’s never going to break the mould for impressionists – but it doesn’t really seem that he wants to. He’s undemandingly entertaining, accomplished enough at his talent to never be out of demand in the novelty answerphone message market but otherwise a fairly unremarkable act.