Like a mate down the pub with a beer in his belly and a bee in his bonnet, Lee Camp presents a passionate but messy diatribe against the ills of the world. Gradually building from petty concerns (allergies, pets), it’s not long before he’s tucking into bankers and politicians, and his scattershot polemic leaves few subjects unscathed.

Although he’s a fiery performer, his targets are all too obvious and he struggles to say anything new. He also seems unsure of much of his material; every so often, just as he’s building to a crescendo, Camp deflates the atmosphere by reaching for his scruffy notebook containing a list of tepid one-liners. He claims to have this as back-up in case his material falls flat, but it’s a pointless distraction both for the audience and himself, and needlessly dilutes what little momentum he’s built.

Towards the end of a long hour, it feels like the room’s energy has dissipated. Camp is a confident performer with some nice ideas but by trying to confront every issue on the planet he fails to make any profound connections.

Just the Tonic at Bristo Square, 556 5375, until 25 Aug (not 13), 6.50pm, £10–£12.