James Acaster: Lawnmower

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First things first: James Acaster's show is nothing to do with lawnmowers. Zilch. Percy Pigs, yes. Mariachi bands, most definitely. Those folk who write messages in the sky using planes? Climb aboard. But not so much as a flymo. That's not in fact a criticism: really, who cares about the adherence or otherwise to a contrived theme? Just an observation. And here's another one: Acaster isn't actually that funny. But that's not meant as a criticism, either. Well, maybe a bit.

In fact, by far the strongest suit in Acaster's deck is his delivery. Slow, languid and pedantic, Acaster delights in following throwaway comments or figures of speech to their logical conclusions, poring over them with a rigour and clarity they absolutely do not deserve. "I'll level with you," he confides, before berating the rhyme scheme of 'Frère Jacques'. "Look, if I'm honest..." he begins, launching into another set piece of bathos. The humour, where it does come, spreads in gentle waves. A scoff here and a titter there – never ever a roar. The delight here is in the originality of the style, not the wafer-thin substance.

Lawnmowers aside, this is a nicely structured show, too. Ostensibly a whimsical attempt to clear the name of Yoko Ono, Acaster casts out loose ends and then ties them back up in all sorts of exotic knots. These flights of fancy culminate in a single punchline – very clever, but only mildly funny. And that's about the sum of it: there's much enjoyment to be had here, but it's in the journey rather than the destination.