STEWART LEE is unlike any comedian I have seen or am likely to see.

When he’s on stage, you get the impression he doesn’t care if you laugh at his jokes or get his obscure references.

He’s smug to a fault and believes he’s the funniest, most intelligent person in the room.

If you don’t laugh then you don’t get it and that’s not his problem.

In all fairness, he’s probably right, the audience did laugh and his arrogance is well placed – his set could not be delivered without it.

At one point, he harped on for what seemed like an hour about an old family saying passed through the generations that had been stolen and used as a slogan for selling pear cider. Every avenue was explored and, despite the absurdity of the situation, I was surprised when he declared the whole thing to be a fallacy.

His brooding anger and passion for the obscure sucks you in and you begin to believe the nonsense with which he has angered himself.

He ended the set with an unexpected performance of Galway Girl. Guitar in hand, Lee sat strumming and singing his heart out. This was slightly awkward and unexpected. A comedian, particularly one of Lee’s standing, shouldn’t look like he is putting all his effort into something – as he said: “It is the last taboo in stand-up comedy.”