Arthur Smith has earned the right to coast, his decades as regular weekend compere at London's Comedy Store showing in the deep crevices of his craggy face. At this point in his life, he's an unlikely fixture of the BBC, his unaffected Balham brogue marking him an outsider within the broadcaster's cosy, middle-class confines.
The fact that an early mention of Radio 4 elicits cheers from this afternoon's audience suggests they've bought tickets on the strength of his latter-day branding. Were Smith simply to throw us a couple of anecdotes about running into Sandi Toksvig or John Humphrys in the staff canteen, the throng would likely go home happy. Instead, he offers up a far more impressive and challenging work than is really necessary from a man at this stage in his career.
Essentially a comedy lecture on idiocy and enjoying life in the moment, the show doesn't stick to an obvious episodic structure. Smith approaches his material with a poetic flair, breaking off from perfectly crafted cantankerous observations to indulge in surreal digression as though this was the most natural thing in the world. He challenges the audience to piece together the various strands of his imagination, and our attention is rewarded long after he's left the stage in an endearingly ridiculous jumpsuit. While his career has settled somewhat, Smith's unique talent continues to grow.