With his dishevelled hair and generally bewildered demeanour, Milton Jones might look as if he simply craves a big hug, but don't be fooled - there are more sharply absurd one-liners up his sleeve than arm hairs.
The Radio 4 regular arrives on stage early, inexplicably wearing giant foam hands and a silk turban. In this way he draws the audience into a conspiracy whereby latecomers find themselves rounded on as potential human sacrifices. It is a silly wheeze, but disarmingly effective nonetheless, and along with a handful of other devices it provides some variation in a show otherwise consisting entirely of bizarre, usually pun-based, observations.
In the hands of lesser comics this would be a problem, but after pointedly subduing a would-be heckler, Jones assumes complete control, and proceeds to muse on subjects ranging from hay fever ('the pollen count - there's a difficult job') to the death of his grandfather ('he drowned in a giant bowl of fruit cake mix - sounds unlikely, but underneath the surface there are some strong currants'). His teeming brain seemingly inexhaustible, Jones gave the impression that he could have continued performing for hours - something with which the enraptured audience would have had no problem.