Stewart Lee’s latest show is actually two shows. In Tornado he takes his cue from a Netflix listings error that confused his stand-up special with a shark film gorefest. Then in Snowflake he plunges into the world of political correctness.
To be frank, there is not as much distinction as one hoped. Ricky Gervais, for example, is mercilessly teased on either side of the interval.
During one memorable skewering Lee contorts his face and blurts out meaningless dada noises to satirise the notion of comedians saying the unsayable.
While he is quick to knock others he is equally swift to mock himself, recalling how when he had a recent medical check he was regarded not as a pre-eminent performer but as an old, grey fat man, and advised to do some “chair-based activity”.
This is Lee the clever crowdpleaser. There are few overt Brexit ruminations, just astute asides. Instead there are deft Alan Bennett impressions and daft little hops. It is testament to his talent that he is even brutally funny when wrong.
His take-down of Phoebe Waller-Bridge, arguing that she is no gamechanger, misses the mark yet is still hilariously acted out.
If Lee flirts with self-parody with his relentless moans about his increasing decrepitude he has found considerable humour there. Has he jumped the shark? Fortunately for us he is no physical shape to jump over anything.
Until January 25 (020 7734 2222, leicestersquaretheatre.com). June 27, 28, July 1-3, Royal Festival Hall, SE1 (020 3879 9555, stewartlee.co.uk)
