Eclair proves a not-so-sweet treat

Twenty minutes into Middle-Aged Bimbo, Jenny Eclair takes a breath. It's the first, and last, pause in this restless, abrasive act from the 1995 Perrier Award winner.

Six years on, the self-proclaimed '40-year-old foul-mouthed comedienne' is worried about looking in the mirror and seeing Iggy Pop stare back, about how 'every time I wiggle my arse, my teeth fall out'. Age cannot wither her desire to shock, though. 'Laughter is the best medicine,' she says. 'Unless you've got thrush. You can't rub The Two Ronnies on that.'

You either go for this sort of material or you don't. (And if you don't, look out for the gags about Eminem's dungarees and making your own pasta: they're about all you've got here.) But there's a sameness about her scatological punchlines that suggests Eclair would rather be getting on with her new career as 'a lady novelist'. There are some great one-liners but the insights are fleeting and it's often hard to know whether she's exaggerating or just making stuff up to get a laugh.

'It's only an hour, and I'm an award-winner - Crufts 1972,' she says. Eclair seems to have kept her sense of structure for her books, though: this plays like a 60min club routine rather than a show in its own right. Those with more patience than me for parp and privates gags will be more sympathetic. But while she's not ready for the old blondes' home quite yet, some of her material is looking awful droopy.

Jenny Eclair - Middle Aged Bimbo