An ambitious mix of the mythical and the mundane, Li Jin  Hao’s sophomore show hangs heavy with exquisite whimsy and profound symbolism. There are jokes, too, but wistful atmosphere is all.

How apt that in the month of the eclipse, he starts with the Chinese myth of how the earth was once scorched by ten suns until the archer Hou Yi shot all but one out of the sky. However, it is the lunar body the comedian is most drawn to, with the show split up by poetic chapters about how ‘the moon is the past’ because of gravity, distance and time.

That speaks to Li’s description of himself as Mr Nostalgia, pining for Singapore, where he grew up, and his Chinese birthplace as he settles himself in unfamiliar London. And between the philosophical musings, a more quotidian story of going to the cinema.

Li has the ability to spin a tiny gem of an idea in an epic, imaginative fantasy. The uneven flooring in his London flat inspires a charming, occasionally recurring, bit of whimsy; an inability to sleep prompts a story about the sheep he was counting that becomes dafter at each turn, but delivered in languid deadpan.

The show is full of pithy, gnomic nuggets, while he dares the audience to keep up with eclectic references, from indie folk outfit Bon Iver to Buddhism’s Wheel Of Samsara and much else besides.

Li maintains an otherworldly mood, seemingly reflecting his own place adrift between two places. Yet he’s also ready to break the spell, occasionally getting in his own head about how things are going and incidents in the room, for good and bad. While this can be distracting from the world he’s building, it’s actually a delight to see the real him  – such as his palpable joy when a joke he wrote that day lands –  behind the enigmatic persona of the knowledgeable but unknowable philosopher.

All the atmosphere and myth-making is probably easier to admire than enjoy. But the gags, they’re golden.