Bailey hits a higher register

Despite the outward countenance of the hippy that time forgot, Bill Bailey has been positively industrious since the first West End run of Part Troll last year.

When not recording umpteen episodes of Never Mind The Buzzcocks, he has been taking his mindbendingly funny brand of musical comedy around the country. He is now back with a revised edition, in which he achieves the impossible by being better than ever.

Last autumn the hairy self-styled Klingon motivational speaker lookalike seemed a little overwhelmed by his success. This time he strolls around between two keyboards and an array of exotic guitars knowing that his comic chops are in working order.

There is a disingenuous air to his suggestion that he finds starting a gig as difficult as finding the beginning of a toilet roll.

The most notable stylistic development is a fully-fledged curmudgeonly side. He bemoans his frustrating past as a door-to-door door salesman and describes his native West Country as a "cider-strewn wilderness". Urban life does not escape his ire either. He succinctly sums up the Argos catalogue as a "laminated book of dreams".

Some of his topical targets, such as Rebecca Loos, are lame, but Bailey's likeability allows him to pull off these fishina-barrel moments.

Similarly when it comes to his music, he now follows his well-established rubric of reworking classics in different genres - this time it was chart hits as Hillbilly Hoedowns - but there's an unalloyed joy in hearing Stairway To Heaven on the banjo.

The climax finds Bailey reaching boiling point with his hate-list after a cuddly discourse on the best culinary cannabis recipes. More old songs wrap things up.

It is probably about time he retired his antique Portishead version of Zippedy Doo Da, but if he did refrain, his devotees might never let him leave.

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