Dominic Woodward genuinely has the friendly, Northern cheeky-chappie persona nailed, with his easy stage manner guaranteeing 20 minutes or so of amiable company. He has a compere’s gift of being able to move to and fro between audience banter, seamlessly integrating it with his pre-prepared material, and creates a relaxed, friendly air.

The material, however, is more hit and miss; with some uninspired, lightweight observational banter sitting next to some sharper material. He seems to know it, too… acknowledging, at least to the comedy-savvy XS Malarkey audience where Chortle last saw him, that his ‘…and that was just the teachers!’ switcheroo was a very hack punchline indeed.

So, too, is his material about some of the less salubrious aspects of his Oldham hometown. For an avowed socialist, he’s rather harsh on elements of the working classes, dismissing one girl as ‘a chav on a checkout’, and making simplified, if sarcastic, observations about that much-mocked social group.

But there is better stuff in his routine, too. That checkout story has a nice payoff, he’s brutally dismissive about the so-called ‘trickled-down’ economy, where bumper executive pay packets are excused for the benefits they eventually bring to the rest of us, and his line about working in a feminist bookshop is a bona fide classic.

There’s just about enough here to make him a solid, unspectacular act; a journeyman rather than an artist.