Charlie Partridge opens his show with a sustained faux-German accent, live beatboxing, and loop machine tricks from audio equipment laid out on a deconstructed ironing board. It's certainly odd, and mildly amusing. Eventually he drops the facade, reveals his London accent and embarks on a tale of unrequited love, a history of his awful jobs selling Pringles and narrating B&Q adverts, journeys to a lighthouse in the Netherlands and taking DMT in a fake ashram in San Francisco.

Partridge is likeable, and at times warm and earnest, but his stand-up lacks pace and laugh-out-loud moments. Lengthy details about an orgy he attended struggled to contain any real comedic value apart from base amusement at sexual word play. The structure of his hour depended on a romantic tale which unfortunately became laboured and uninteresting while intermittent use of his loop machine and silly beatboxing ability often felt clunky, technically flawed and unnecessary.

In moments, Partridge made some warm and thoughtful points, particularly those around our tendency to pretend to be someone else at the start of a relationship. The show overall, however, often seemed somewhat confused: part comedy, part music, part self-analysis but without fulfilling any of them satisfactorily.

Just the Tonic at The Caves, until 26 Aug (not 13), 4.50pm, £5 in advance or donation at the venue.