Despite being a comedy newcomer, Stephen Hill is ultra-confident, with an appealing delivery but lacklustre material about how backward village folk are, or how casually-homophobic blokes can happily watch half-naked, oiled-up musclemen wrestling for the WWE.

He’s mostly amiable with it… or at least he is until he suddenly turns nasty, with a couple of abrasively harsh, utterly charmless and shamelessly unfunny gags about Kate McCann and gang rape that can turn an audience. And the following segment about a xenophobic neighbour that’s derivative of, and greatly inferior to, a hard-hitting Marcus Brigstocke routine is unlikely to win them back round.

Hill doesn’t yet seem to have found a personality or style of humour to stick with, so dabbles in several, with disappointing results and jarring changes of gear.