Chris Turner always wanted to be a musician or a comedian, and he’s got the paperwork to prove it. Discovered in some old family archives were primary school questionnaires, almost every one saying that what he’s doing now was his dream future job.

Things might have turned out differently, as careers advisers would have had him follow in his father’s footsteps as a recruitment consultant. Luckily, Turner Sr was more encouraging, urging his son to stick with performing, having seen a talent and noticed what joy playing with various local bands brought him.

All these reflections on fatherhood and nurturing ambitions have come to the fore as the musical comic is now dad to a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Ada, and his thoughts inevitably turn to what sort of parent he wants to be.

The ‘follow your dreams’ narrative is rather simplistic, and requires a bit more investment in Turner’s life than the straightforward biographical facts given here naturally engender. But as a framework for the entertaining songs, it does just fine.

As an 1980s kid – albeit by the skin of his teeth - the comic and his two-man backing band The Child Labourers indulge in a nostalgia-fest of a synth-pop song listing icons from the era in a kind of benign version We Didn’t Start The Fire. He’s dressed the part, too, in velour suit, sleeves rolled up, and… is that a mullet?

Later, he reveals another childhood dream of wanting to be French, ergo the Parisian crooning of J’aime Le Derierre, as unsubtle as the title suggests.

My Dad Is Better Than Your Dad is a Blink 182-style punk-pop number, the style of his mid-2000s teenage bands, and he advisedly shows off his talent for freestyle rap sparingly, with a couple of improvised numbers based on audience members’ dream jobs and most valued advice. Finding a punter called Doglio was a godsend, but Turner can work with whatever he’s given.

Back with the narrative, illustrated with plentiful family snaps and home videos, detailing his show-off genes and portraying his mum as a killjoy pouring scorn on his dreams. 

Meanwhile, he depicts himself as a hero in his wife Alice Winn’s story of overcoming dyslexia to become an award-winning novelist. That sounds rather immodest, but Turner has long lived in the States, so maybe boastful American sensibilities have got to him, but it jars a bit to cynical British ears.

Childish wraps up with a sweet song for Ada and a suitably silly show-stopper to drive home the message that Turner was surely always destined to be on stage. He certainly seems to be enjoying every minute now, and some of that inevitably Rub off on audiences.