Stevenson's wishy-washy observational comedy is in desperate need of some punchlines.

This relative newcomer natters away inconsequentially about the effects of Indian travel on the stomach, drunken Scots and alcohol-fuelled sexual encounters without any particular insight or pay-offs.

It's chatty, but lacks lines that would make you sit up and take notice. Tellingly, the biggest (indeed virtually only) laugh she achieved was tagging the hackneyed 'and so I stabbed her' line onto the end of some particularly aimless anecdote.

And there's something not quite right about a gorgeous woman moaning about better-looking girls and not being able to get a boyfriend.

These are off-the-peg topics rather than anything personal, which means her insecurities come across as whiny, rather than an angst-fuelled and heartfelt, and makes for quite a dull act.