Funny. Twice.

Whoever entitled this show should be sued under the Trade Descriptions act. This is a split-set stand-up piece, 30 minutes of one comic then 30 minutes of another. But it's not funny twice. It's funny once. The first comedian, Damion Larkin, is shocking.

Not good shocking either, like Howard Stern. Bad shocking. His monotone delivery gets the rare, strained laughter of an audience that's paid £8 to get in, and desperately wants to rinse value from the evening. His prepared material runs out with 5 minutes to go. The shortfall is filled with agonising attempts at audience participation. The audience's goodwill wanes. The exit door beckons like a long-lost lover.

Then the amazing happens. The second act, Jimmy McGhie walks on stage and instantly you see what a real comedian looks like. Charming, bright-eyed and relaxed, his set is sweet relief. There's nothing groundbreaking here, unless you count the fact that he single-handedly resurrects the stone-cold corpse of an evening. He melds rhythm and timing with a polished and honest delivery. His material is well-tailored. He's a pleasure to watch.

Had McGhie been alone doing a one-hour set, the night would have been great. As it was he should get some new friends, because his choice of comedy partner is appalling. If you hear about this guy doing a set on his own, go watch him. As for this evening? Latecomers are not admitted, so bring your iPod for the first half.