Not the best medicine

My annual trip to a standup comedy night can act as a useful barometer of British social attitudes. When I used to perform it in the late 80s, it was a way of berating Thatcher and warning of nuclear armageddon. Sure enough, if last night's trip to a comedy club is anything to go by, its socially indicative aspect is still there. It's just that many of the gags - about white trash chavs and George W. Bush - aren't especially funny. Marcus Brigstocke just about saved himself with an assault on ambulance chasing lawyers and loan companies, doing a note-perfect parody of daytime TV adverts. But, that and few edgy Michael Jackson gags aside, this was a left-leaning Richard Littlejohn in action.

Talking of the 1980s, Otis Cannelloni did more or less the same set I saw him do nearly 20 years ago, a note-perfect lounge-singing bossa nova spoof. He was followed by Canadian comic Mike Wilmot, who mainly worked on gags with a load of anatomical detail and avoided easy targets. Looking around my flat, it's clear his comments about having the stove next to the toilet were a bit close for comfort. As for his calling me fat ... pot, kettle, black.