Jarred Christmas

Jarred Christmas launches his show with such energetic gusto it's a wonder he's not flat out on the floor after the first minute. It's a spectacular entry, not particularly inventive but perfectly judged to endear himself to the crowd and terrify his front row.

A seasoned compère, Christmas is masterful at controlling an audience. You just know you're in safe hands no matter where he goes, and some of those places are delightfully horrid.

There's little rhyme or reason to his ruminations. His whimsy flits from World War II to the Olympics in the bat of an eyelid and he certainly has nothing profound to say, although a sustained diatribe against an arrogant youth is a highlight. After polling the audience to see if anyone has done anything heroic, he rues his cowardice and sets up his final act. It's not clever, it's certainly not subtle, but the climax featuring Christmas, bare-chested and facing a front row firing squad armed with an arsenal of nerf guns is somehow the perfect end to a breathless, confident show.

Gilded Balloon, 622 6552, until 26 Aug, 9.30pm, £10.50--£11.50 (£9--£10).