Dylan Moran @ The Usher Hall, 8 Aug

At his most dastardly, like Connolly of old, Dylan Moran commands the stage with a cool affability. As such, it's no wonder he so quickly transcended the Portakabins to reach the grandiose heights of these two consecutive sell-out Usher Hall performances.

In the context of Moran's universe, however, grandiose is a term best used loosely. This is a comic too grounded in reality to be implicated in high-minded snobbery. Cutting yet strangely compassionate, Moran's a jaded realist on the prowl tonight. He makes short work of dogma by pitting Jesus against Batman; dismisses the countryside as a place laden with League of Gentlemen-esque stereotypes. Glasgow also catches it: "They have glass festivals there, usually on a Friday and Saturday night"), as does California ("a state where the ability to lift things apparently equates to power – I'd hate to see his successor," he says of Governor Schwarzenegger).

By generating incredibly potent imagery, Moran effortlessly conjures up dark cartoons that ooze a Tim Burton-like absurdity. Whether riffing on sexuality, on raising kids, or on the curious dualism of the Irish face; he waxes on topics that benefit significantly from a humble posture, an intense storytelling prowess and sheer verbal dexterity. "He uses a lot of words, doesn't he?", declares a spectating Simon Amstell from the crowd at half time. No shit, and he's a demon at his craft.