Juliet Meyers works very hard at her stand-up – and it shows. In one sense, this is good news, as she’s grafted over the seven-and-a-bit years she’s been in comedy to put together a solidly amusing set.

But on the other hand, stand-ups should be like ducks, at least appearing effortless, whatever’s going on beneath the surface. Meyers still looks like she’s working rather too hard to get the audience to like her.

It starts from the stance. She hunches forward, and delivers her material upwards, towards the spotlight, as if it were a Shakespearean soliloquy. Often her hand is outstretched, too, physically imploring the audience to come to her. It’s not a naturalistic performance, by any stretch, but does helps her give some oomph to the material, despite seeming slightly forced.

Much of what she talks about may seem earnest and hippyish: she’s a vegan, who studied feminism and who likes sharing tales of trips to south-east Asia. It’s as if her set list is made out of organic tofu.

This list of solemn subjects suggests someone completely humourless. Thankfully, though, she defies the stereotype and doesn’t take any of this too seriously, happily making herself the butt of some of the jokes. Her routine is very much driven towards punchlines, rather than spreading any big ideas, and they certainly come at a decent rate.

The gags are slightly hit and miss, but the tally of hits is greater by a good margin, with a few offbeat, witty gems among them. It’s more than enough to win most audiences over.

Meyers is no comic natural, but she’s testament to the fact that time and effort can still produce a more than workmanlike set. All that effort has raised her to be a reliable middle-spot comic, able to hold her own over a 20-minute set in most rooms.