Frank Skinner

Frank Skinner has recently turned 50. Although this coming-of-age means his jokes on masturbation "just sound creepy," being half a century old does have one advantage: he can now indulge in "granny-porn" without embarrassment.

Returning to live stand-up after a ten-year absence, the self-admittedly "camp" comedian takes to the stage without a hint of first-night nerves. The theme of ageing and its sexual consequences dominates the act, leading Skinner down an increasingly smutty path. Though Skinner's revelation about his diminishing sex life (which now consists almost exclusively of masturbation) elicits sympathetic chuckles from the predominantly middle-aged audience, his material lacks the necessary intelligence and wit to be truly hilarious.

Seemingly unsure about the kind of comedy he's going for, Skinner's show is an antithetical mix of innocent anecdotes and graphic sexual imagery. Asking the audience repeatedly if he's "gone too far," he appears to think his vulgar repetoire is shocking. It's not. The boundaries of acceptability have vastly expanded during the decade he's been out of the game; material that was deemed outrageous ten years ago has now become standard fare for even the most mild-mannered comedian – everyone jokes about paedophiles now. Unfortunately Skinner hasn't quite caught up: his show still relies upon the power to shock and lacking this, it's a tame, unintelligent and largely unfunny affair.

However, the final five minutes of Skinner's set are an exception, with some surprisingly original ruminations on Heather Mills that prove the old boy's still got spark. Along with this short flash of brilliance, his exceptionally timed delivery and natural charisma go some way to redeeming the more banal material, keeping his exceedingly appreciative audience (comprising more than a few hardcore fans, I suspect) entertained.