Ed feels the dark side

Irishman Ed Byrne's last London run started on 10 September, 2001. There was little demand for laughter that week. This time Byrne has the timing right and the jokes impressively well-honed. Less impressive is a previously absent bellicose tone.

He starts conventionally on the topic of travel. The skinny, chain-smoking Dubliner chuckles that the Grand Canyon is so big Ireland would have nowhere to put it. But by the time he reaches Canada and Turkey, he's complaining about everything from strippers to currency.

Celebrities are mocked mercilessly. Madonna, Pele and Barrymore all receive blistering contempt. It's unexpected from someone whose usual terrain is the gentler side of the gender wars. And a shame, because his observational banter still hits bullseyes. There is a particularly acute section on sleep, how we gamble with snooze buttons to snatch extra seconds.

Byrne is a pacey performer with some insightful stories tucked between unsavoury riffs. One gets the feeling he wants to be darker, but this manifests itself as the thin end of a misanthropic wedge. The new Ed is Jack Dee dipped in vitriol. Mere curmudgeons may mourn old Ed.

Until 21 December. Box office: 020 7388 8822.
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Ed Byrne