Luke McQueen, the most mischievous twerp in stand-up, has created the show of his career here, I just hope it’s not too ‘inside baseball’ to get the attention it deserves. 

The premise extends from McQueen’s grievance that he’s never been invited onto Stuart Goldsmith’s podcast The Comedian’s Comedian, a long-running interview show where Goldsmith interviews other comedians seriously about their life and work. 

Burning his bridges with the real Goldsmith in a fit of petulant egotism, he uses AI to clone Goldsmith’s voice and interview himself instead. Five minutes in, and the couple next to me who had taken a punt on a random comedy show were visibly confused and upset. I’m noting this here because I suspect McQueen would be delighted if he knew.

Or maybe not, as the AI quickly turns nasty, and McQueen spends much of this show using his Goldsmith robot to painfully excoriate himself, hitting himself where it hurts over and over again.

Initially, he’s just required to give an honest, non-spoof interview, which on its own is enough to make him hiss like a vampire in front of a crucifix, but things quickly get worse for him as Goldsmith gets personal. 

McQueen’s lust for success and artistic recognition, his many crippling fears, his ingrained facetiousness and arrested development are all extracted in a series of hilarious set pieces that feel more than ever like they have the ring of truth, quite an achievement for a fish who swims in the river of irony as this comic does.

The show is directed by Jordan Brookes, who’s developed a signature style by cracking himself open and writhing in pain on stage, and it feels like he might be the perfect foil for McQueen, who in previous outings had always seemed much more untouchable, slightly to the detriment of his comedy.

It's a satisfying turnaround to see McQueen, who initially portrays himself as a monster of ego and looks like a male model in his nice brown suit, brought low and humiliated, on this evening enhanced sublimely by a pressganged audience member who intuits exactly what the show is looking for. 

The AI’s access to McQueen’s laptop allows it to dredge up all sorts of embarrassing video footage and  search histories to hilarious effect – the set pieces keep coming at a perfect clip, each more inventive and surprising than the last. A moment that has McQueen on his knees miming fellating a child version of himself feels like an ideal use of Brookes’ influence.

In the end, there might be one twist too many in the tale, as equilibrium reasserts itself and McQueen returns to his comfort zone of having the last laugh. It’s very cleverly done, but leaves you in no doubt that he’s at his best with a stake through his heart.