Jimbo is something of a legend in the open-mic community, mainly for his dogged determination to keep plugging away at the bottom rung of the comedy circuit with little hope, and possibly desire, of promotion.

He is a real character, too – a man in latish middle age on a scene dominated by the young, whose jokes are almost universally dreadful. Yet, undeterred he keeps churning them out.

What appeal he has ins predominantly from the ironic ‘so bad he’s good’ school, although even if you do subscribe to that point of view, you are still likely to have your patience tested in even the shortest set. He is essentially a novelty act, with a novelty that very soon wears out.

The one person who is always entertained by his patter is Jimbo himself, who follows each painful pun with an earpiecingly loud barked laugh – an involuntary nervous reflex vaguely redolent of Eric Morecambe’s ‘Arsenal’ tic. The twitch only adds to his cultish appeal, making him appear even more of a quirky personality.

One – or at a stretch, even two – of the gags in his set can be OK, but to suggest he collate these into a workable set would defeat the point. He’s a hero to the newcomers seeking validation to their own half-formed acts and adds a modicum of wilfully amateurish colour to the incubator sub-circuit increasingly dominated by career comics with their five-point plans.

It’s great that the comedy circuit can still find some space for eccentrics like Jimbo – you just wouldn’t want to have to sit through his act all that often…