By Robert Bain

When I last saw Stewart Lee perform in 2005, he was even more bitter than usual – worn down by the self-appointed defenders of religion who took issue with ‘blasphemous’ hit show Jerry Springer: The Opera.

The unlikely target of his vitriol was Joe Pasquale – who stands at the opposite end of the comic spectrum from the boundary-pushing Lee. After accusing Pasquale of plagiarising other comedians’ jokes, Lee spent considerable time building up to a punchline so vile, offensive and (if you believe in the concept) blasphemous, that Pasquale could never steal it.

It’s a relief to find Lee has calmed down somewhat in the intervening two years. However, one can surmise from this show’s title (a reference to a recent Channel 4 list programme) and that of his DVD, Stewart Lee: 90s Comedian, that he retains his unhealthy preoccupation with not being as famous as other, lesser, comics, or as famous than he once was himself.

As he points out, he’s pushing 40, it’s 17 years since he won a ‘New Act of the Year’ award, and yet he’s still playing a venue for ‘up and coming’ talent.

It’s all just part of his routine, of course, but Lee is running the risk of becoming tiresome. Joking about not being very famous any more shows you’ve got your feet on the ground – joking about it all the time just makes you a bit unappealing. But this is Stewart Lee, and although he may have many preoccupations, being ‘appealing’ is not one of them.

For one thing, the man is a comedy snob, who’s not above chastising his audience for finding the wrong bits funny. He’s not that keen on getting to know us either, preferring to stick to what he’s rehearsed.

He’s dressed plainly, almost all in black – an apparent attempt to fade into the background, which is unusual for someone who makes their living on stage. As he talks he plods listlessly about the stage, toying with his mic lead and looking at his shoes.

For Lee, less is more. The pace of his show is much slower than most comedians’ – he likes to build in long silences, and tense build-ups to his defiantly cerebral punchlines. He is also less rambling than most, although he does manage to cover sardines, Tom O’Connor and entomologists, and there’s a brilliant bit inspired by a press release about ‘the values of the Carphone Warehouse’.

He also revels in freaking the audience out with occasional bizarre turns. At one point he spends a good five minutes lying down with his back to us, for the sake of a joke about Only Fools and Horses. Later he drops his mic for a while and wanders around shouting at us.

All in all, Lee succeeds in making the audience feel pretty awkward. It might not be an achievement that many comedians would aim for, but if you can embrace it, it only makes the show funnier.