Chucking out time?

The Pub Landlord has been the most consistently enjoyable comic character of the past decade.

A vitriolic vendor of shameless chauvinism and preposterous patriotism, Murray's mockney mastery of an audience is peerless. That well-spoken nice guy from Hell's Kitchen is barred. But if there's such a thing as coasting on your own genius, this is it.

The first part of this two-hour show fizzes with improvised wonder, as he humiliates his punters with breathtaking ease. But the written material that follows is flat by comparison.

He argues that these are the golden days to be British. But set pieces such as a nation-by-nation rubbishing of all foreigners, giant globe in hand, don't build to more than the sum of their parts.

Our host has an opinion on everything, from the Middle East ('they don't get on') to a heartfelt overview of Irish history. 'That potato famine was a terrible thing,' he says, pint on belly. 'You couldn't get crisps for love or money.'

But where once Murray undercut and enriched the rants by delving into his character's painful personal life, now these venomous views mostly float free.

It's still an incredible performance. But, after a decade of bogus beer and bullish bonhomie, it's the Landlord, not Murray, who seems to be running the gaff.

Sun and Jul 18, Cambridge Theatre, Earlham Street WC2, 7.45pm, £25, £15 (limited availability). Tel: 020 7494 5081. Tube: Covent Garden

Al Murray - The Pub Landlord