Never underestimate the importance of a good ending. After 50 minutes or so of likeable but unremarkable stand-up, a neat flourish brought all of Corinne Grant’s apparently disconnected conversational strands together, providing a moral to the show and a tidy, satisfying finale. It was a smart, skilful move, ensuring the hour more than the sum of its parts.

Those parts were mainly a collection of anecdotes, stretching from Grant’s childhood in rural Australia to the present day, all of them designed to make her look like a dufus with ‘social retardation’: from the embarrassing cow fancy dress she wore as a youngster to her terrible Eighties perm, to adult relationships with the most unpromising of men.

Sadly, you don’t get to be a mainstream TV face like Grant by taking too many risks, so Out Of Order is simply an amiable skip through an engaging comedian’s memory bank. There are a handful of nice gags, but mainly it’s just about creating a benevolent spirit of self-mockery, making the audience feel a bit less conscious of any cringe-making moments from their own past.

She’s certainly best when talking about herself – third-party observations go no further than predictable comments about ugly babies or the ridiculous way teenagers dress. But while she remains jolly when she’s bearing the brunt of confessions of her own ineptness, these still lack much substance, even if you can’t help but like her as a performer.

The natty pay-off ensures the audience leave happy – though we could be perhaps be spared her deliberately clumsy attempt at interpretive dance – but as a whole the show doesn’t quite rise above the entertainingly diverting. It’s ironic, perhaps, that a show about memory is far from unforgettable.

Reviewed by: Steve Bennett