COMEDY: John Kearns: Schtick (Soho Theatre, October 1)

John Kearns's show has a surface weirdness that seems designed to challenge. To start with, he paces the stage as the audience filter into the auditorium, walking up and down, fiddling with his iPod and mic stand(s) and not really looking at anybody. He resembles a nervous stage manager. Then, out come the bald cap and fake teeth, and anyone except those who have managed to remain completely ignorant of the detail of the event - posters, reviews, any pictures at all - will realise who he is.

The bucktoothed fellow who walks the stage seems to be a parallel projection of Kearns, perhaps a little older, perhaps a little angrier, seeing himself as the permanent outsider who just happens to have this moment in the sun. He'd like to enjoy it but, well, you know - it'll all be over in a minute. He'll be back in the pub, counting his change. Maybe move back in with the family once that runs out. This parallel Kearns finds comfort in the land of the surreal, from the hope that a train driven by a dog will stop to pick him up; from the promise of such sturdy storybook traditionals as Paddington Bear.

So, surface weirdness. Underneath this, the show takes the form of a series of connecting stories about growing up in Streatham, pubs, working as a tour guide at the Houses Of Parliament and more and, at its core, the show is a warm, human and even tragic affair; rarely moreso than in his bleakly amusing account of one old man's waning existence in a pub that itself steadily shifts from seedy, honest boozer to glossy grown-up bolthole.

Despite, or perhaps because of this, the show is extremely and almost constantly funny. And if there is ever a lull, Kearns seems acutely attuned to it and acts accordingly. Before going in, I had no real idea what to expect, and so, hoping for the full experience, sat in the front row. This led to questions about my relative preferences for Indian food, inquiries as to my signature dish (tuna teriyaki), whether I had seen The Shining (yes), requests to explain Pingu to the audience and more. I won't spoil the climax of it all, but it involved a pint glass of Tia Maria and Lucozade. As a result of this audience participation, I left the show on a raging high - but this need-for-quiet inducing excitement also came about because the show is such a bloody rollercoaster. It leaves you with nerves frayed in the most welcome of ways. Heartily recommended to all.

Until 18 October 2014.