Karl Spain is a droll, mate-down-the-pub sort of a comic; an amiable everyman with a cheery, if underlyingly cynical, take on ordinary existence.

His hometown of Limerick provides much fodder for his act, portrayed as an unenlightened backwater where life is generally miserable, and laughing at your predicament is the only way to deal with it. Unsurprisingly, therefore, there’s a strong vein of self-deprecation running through his material, as he cheerily jokes about being a useless, overweight Irishman.

But he’s not useless when it comes to storytelling, thanks to a keen eye for absurdities and a good-natured, easy-going delivery. He is a naturally funny man, and he describes his less-than-heroic reactions to everything from sectarian football fans to visits to the doctor with an instinctively entertaining style.

It’s these medical humiliations that form the best part of his set; and as he was recently diagnosed with diabetes, there are quite a few such tales - which dovetail pleasingly with those jibes at the expense of his own size.

Truly inspired punchlines might be limited, but if you want a charming, chatty routine, almost certain to cheer up a crowd, Spain’s your man.