With the clanging sound of Tom Waits' 'Clap Hands' bookending this show, Ron White is perhaps suggesting that he too has a maverick streak about him. If he does, it's painted in broad technicolour strokes that scream 'old school', which his attendant material occasionally confirms by taking us way down in the hole of a bygone era. The fact that White has a Vegas residency somehow isn't surprising: the news that he's running as a perfectly serious independent US presidential candidate is more of an eye-opener.

There's a touch of Vegas in the crowd too, as some of his fans can't stop hollering, whooping and applauding every couple of minutes. Armed with his trademark decanter of scotch, there are plenty moments when the Atlanta comic justifies the fevered excitement: his burka material stays marginally the right side of the tracks, amounting to what you might charitably call his 'feminist bit', while his assessment of the Republican nomination race as akin to watching an episode of The Golden Girls is well-conceived. Naturally he indulges in some adequate Trump-baiting (an extended metaphor about capturing Canadian geese in nets does threaten to drag) while largely letting Hillary off the hook.

Of course, the least you expect from a veteran stand-up is technical ability and Ron White has that by the matured barrel-load. His folded-arms stance could be read as ultra-relaxed or slightly stand-offish, but his final routine about attending a sex toy convention is more likely to have his crowd crossing their legs.

Assembly George Square Theatre, run ended.