Dave Lemkin is a deceptively good mimic, able to faithfully reproduce all manner of accents to illustrate his conversational comedy.

It’s an especially useful talent for a comic as well-travelled as he is, allowing him to illustrate tales of his adventures with impressive impersonations of everything from his Dutch pals to stereotypical Irish publicans in Burma, or from Zimbabwean tour guides to the white gangs speaking black patois in his now-native Shepherds Bush.

As you might deduce from that brief list, his is not the sort of act that will amaze you with its lofty artistic ambitions. His is not the sort of comedy to make you think, but rather Lemkin is a confidently witty man regaling us with straightforward anecdotes from his own experience.

At times, there’s a little too much exposition and not enough joke, and there is a nagging wish to see him extend the boundaries of his material. But although he does operate within an area of relatively safe comedy, he’s an onstage natural who does so stylishly well.