There’s something in the stereotypical down-to-earth West Midlands psyche that’s suspicious of ambition and ostentation, keeping expectations low and greeting even everyday life with dry, levelling sarcasm. Nuneaton-born Josh Pugh embodies that modest spirit, adding a generous scoop of surrealism and a keen eye for the absurd for a delightful hour-and-a-bit of observational stand-up.

The premise of Existin’ La Vida Loco is that he’s born to be mild. He’s a middle-of-the-road people-pleaser trusted to be the responsible one on stag dos, and while he protests a little, he actually seems pretty happy with that normality and stability. When told his two-year-old son could achieve the greatness of an astronaut or a doctor, he pooh-poohs it – probably accurately, unfortunately – as being unlikely given his family background. 

Now in his mid-thirties, the comedian is settling happily into this unremarkable role of mildly hapless family man, his social life barely extending beyond going to mates’ weddings. He’s been to so many that he’s on first-name terms with some of the Midlands’ hardest-working covers bands. Typical of his approach to comedy – and to the world – one of his best routines is about what happens after the events of the big day finish, with the abrupt return to reality appealing to his distrust of anything too showy.

Weddings – like the premises of many of his routines – are things comics his age may have spoken about forever, yet he finds this fresh angle. For while he’s eminently relatable, middle-of-the-road does not apply to Pugh’s understated talent.

Typically quotidian, he talks about ordering taxis, recommending curries, and – in another virtuous routine – advice on putting out a chip can fire. He elevates some  of these everyday activities into epic act-outs, with the exaggerations having mixed effectiveness, but underpinning them all is a rare skill at exposing ridiculousness no one had previously spotted.

The show lightly touches on ideas such as men’s reluctance to communicate and difficulty in forging strong friendships, as well as the sexist family dynamics of every generation up to his, with their unfair division of labour. But if you want social insight, look elsewhere –  Pugh spends more time hilariously dissecting the mechanics of a misbehaving ketchup lid than anything close to an issue. His forte is the apparently trivial observation, made absurd.

Support came from Raj Poorja, at first gently pawing at Indian stereotypes, then moving on to enjoyably self-deprecating jokes about dating apps and relationships. It earns the audience’s trust enough for gradually darker gags about Shamima Begum and Madelaine McCann. The material isn’t especially distinctive nor envelope-pushing, but he’s a solid gag-writer and amiable performer, his loose confidence with crowd work a notable asset.