Kevin Day’s recent hair loss forms the basis of a meandering tour through some events from the past year, in his own life and the world at large. He follows up last year’s show in which he sang the praises of the NHS’ treatment of his wife’s cancer, by revisiting the topic in a way that feels natural rather than a recycling of old material. His Irish heritage, socialist politics and hatred of Prince Andrew are covered – along with a lot of knob jokes – as he wends his way towards a point.

Day’s style is relaxed and unhurried, allowing him to come across as affable even when he’s being vitriolic (the Scots get it fully in the neck) or puerile (the aforementioned dick jokes). A neat bit of shtick about how he’s going to open the show before he actually opens the show demonstrates that he’s comfortable with the conventions of comedy and able to use them to his advantage. More of this toying with the format could only enhance his act which, as it stands, is a pleasant hour in the company of an effortless raconteur who manages to endear even when being insulting.

Gilded Balloon, 622 6552, until 30 Aug (not 19), 6.15pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).