Jay Foreman: No More Colours

Jay Foreman would have you believe that he is a misanthrope, or, at he very least, a miserablist. This premise doesn't fully wrap itself around his latest hour of musical comedy, and the constituent parts of it can elicit all manner of emotions and responses.

Take for example Foreman's showstopping tube stop song. Whether you are a Londoner or not, you cannot help but feel in awe of a composition naming of all London Underground's 270 stations. You might also find the gently surreal song about surfing with actress Patricia Routledge sweet (an explanation to those young folk who need it will be supplied), ditto the quixotic foodstuffs hoarded by Foreman's grandma.

It's true that a world-weariness seeps in to the set; Foreman's impatience with people who anthropomorphise, the Hollywood recipe for Christmas movies and the declining fortunes of The Simpsons all figure in building a profile of Foreman as at least disillusioned. But it's not enough to stop his finale putting him back on track as having some faith in the modern world.

Arguably, had he portrayed himself as more of a hard-bitten cynic, this 'redemption' might have seemed unlikely. Given the simple tunes and lyrics to some of his songs, the metaphorical child inside Foreman was always there to see. This simplicity is a strength – though, at first, the approach is disconcerting in the way that watching a kid's show at 8.45pm would be. However, what seems childish is tender and what might seem infantile is playful.