Ed Gamble: Mammoth

The disparity between how we see ourselves and the perceptions of others is an easy source of material for the self-aware comic. Ed Gamble exploits it masterfully however during this casually assured hour, touching briefly on his dramatic weight loss once again, but laying bare all manner of additional insecurities with which to trouble his ego.

A dodgily tattooed, heavy metal devotee with a sensible haircut and desire to see everyone home safely, his misfit status inspires some lovely whimsy on the exercise regimes of various deities, and a tremendous paedophilia gag. The latter is elaborately set up, but as ever, Gamble is at ease making light of his process and amiably playing the crowd, in no rush through his well-ordered setlist. Privately educated, his lording over his local secondary school rivals is recalled with an apt visual metaphor and there's a lengthy section about him running the London Marathon, nailing the smugness that accompanies this aggrandizing endeavour.

A throwaway, observational bit about halloumi could happily grace any television showcase, while he's crudely inventive and very funny about the admin inherent in the 69 sexual position. Pernickety to the point of resenting his girlfriend for shedding hair, he acknowledges his moral compass is compromised after blasting a baby with four-letter invective, though he handles his father's failings with indiscreet but loving grace. Gamble's conversational style also belies his ability to choose the right word to conjure an image, with his uproarious account of repressing a fart during a massage bursting with great lines.