Ed Byrne, Theatre Royal, Winchester

WITH flowing dark locks, Irish insouciance and a smart but self-deprecating style, this is the Ed Byrne you recognise from the telly, only with one notable exception: he's actually funny.

Not call-an-ambulance-I've-laughed-myself-into-an-embolism funny, you understand, but gently, relentlessly, witty throughout.

Always affable on the TV but ultimately unmemorable, he thrives in the sharp focus of the live arena.

He announces his intention to smoke throughout and, as good as his word, proceeds to crack his gags wreathed in smoke, jabbing his points home with a series of Marlboro.

And rather than insult his front row, he breaks with stand-up tradition and offers only compliments. And this is the crux of it.

For all the fags and the ripe vocabulary, he actually is a nice boy. So even though he's not going to send you home with rib-ache, you want to laugh and do because you like him.