Steve McGrew is one of America’s most successful road comics, with 20-odd years of headlining experience under his belt. He’s opened for some of the biggest names in entertainment, including Dolly Parton, Billy Crystal and The Beach Boys, and could possibly pass as a missing Bee Gee himself.

His years on stage have made him the consummate professional. His delivery is vibrant and pacy, with every gag hit with the laser-guided accuracy a cruise missile would envy. The set ploughs forward, fluidly, relentlessly, offering just enough pause for laughs but not for contemplation. His timing is split-second precise.

The subject matter is unwaveringly mainstream, not straying too far from the most well-worn paths of stand up. Most of it’s about relationships – and with three divorces under his belt, he’s certainly got enough source material. It’s about being lazy as his wife nags, about romance ebbing out of a marriage, about being drunk, about the soundtracks to porn music. The comedy bingo-card of hackneyed subjects soon has full house.

His patter is punctuated with a stream of similarly familiar tricks, such as the recurring squealing pig straight out of Deliverance. But the way he employs them is faultless, and you can’t deny their effectiveness at getting, and amplifying, the laughs.

He’s America’s Jeff Green, with unambitious material expertly told. He’s such a master craftsman he should be in some sort of guild, even if the artistic side of stand-up is less well-served. So while most thoughts he conveys will be instantly familiar to comedy devotees, you do have to stand back and admire the way he does it.