Oooh that Liam Mullone is naughty.

Not content with climbing a ladder at the start of his show - in direct and deliberate contradiction of health and safety regulations - he sells a member of his audience a bag of Japanese Knot Weed, supplies vodka on unlicensed premises and then, just to show how naughty he can really be, reveals that he is in possession of a Polish potato that he imported through England.

All of which infringes some minor rule or other in the nanny state that Mullone seeks to lampoon. Or maybe that should be “Rabbit State”, as Mullone draws on references to the fascistic regime in Watership Down to make his point, even going to the trouble of starting the show in a rabbit mask.

There is some mildly amusing material and Mullone’s retiring manner is amenable enough for a comedian stuck in the late night slot in a venue sat next to the toilets. The problem is that despite his occasionally good sense of observation, he is the comedic equivalent of a moralising tabloid journalist banging on about diktats from Brussels.

There is no irony as he ends the show wrapped in a Union Jack, wittering on about castles and council tax to the strain of Jerusalem.