As if acknowledging that tales of being under the influence are rarely that interesting, Sheldermine garnishes his anecdotes with occasional blasts of genuine stupidity. These surreal touches inject some much-needed life into the routine, but overall it is too inconsistent, too loose and too flatly delivered to really sparkle, despite these isolated flashes of promise.

But a little more focus could put a lot right - he’s not an act to be written off just yet.