In perhaps the quintessential Ed Aczel performance, the master anti-comedian spent 99 per cent of this performance so fiercely backlit by halogens that he was barely visible in silhouette, and any attempt to read his facial expression resulted in an affliction of white spots in the eyes. Add to that his mumbling performance style and he’s rendered himself barely perceptible on stage – a magnificent final trick for a man who’s spent his career rejecting the fundamental precepts of comedy.

Aside from that (possibly unintentional) gambit, this is quite a typical Aczel show. He begins with three stories which he pre-empts by discouraging us from finding meaning within. ‘You won’t know anything more about me after these stories,’ he says, which is mostly true, although they share a common theme of unremarkable coincidences involving celebrities from his childhood.

Elsewhere, he touches on Bond (a recurring theme for Aczel, and appropriate for someone who styles himself as the world’s most boring man), and then grumbles about his network provider in a protracted one-on-one with an audience member – a section which is soundtracked by raucous singing from Freddie Hayes’s show in the adjoining yurt.

I’ve never been in a show that interacts so fascinatingly with sound bleed. Aczel speaks in a low room tone, and has a little echo on the mic, with the result that his voice is often partially drowned by chants, music and hysterical laughter from next door. He ploughs through this environment with his head down, not mentioning it.

The craft of the anti-comedian combines here with the happy accidents of the setting to create something sublime. His long, boring stories and irrelevant factoids are offset exquisitely – and paradoxically made so much more funny – by the forceful impression that people are having more fun in another show nearby.

Or a different kind of fun, at least, because Aczel’s deadpan is undeniable, at least to half of the audience. You have to surrender yourself a little, but ultimately his love of the pointless and meaningless is both joyous and infectious. You’re putting yourself in the hands of a man so funny he can create comedy from material that is literally not funny.