A sign of the times maybe, but Ross Noble feels he has to disclaim his show at the top, declaring his wokeness and aversion to being politically incorrect, lest perhaps one of his runaway trains of thought inadvertently ploughs through someone's sensitivities. The sentiment feels genuine, even if it's initially couched with impish gags about gender equality for Wickermen or a quip about Alzheimer's.

Still, the Geordie disassembler isn't taking any chances. He's conscious that Humournoid's cornerstones are a recurring impression of Greta Thunberg and a barnstorming routine about abusing sign language. Not to mention tonight's seemingly spontaneous summoning of Jimmy Savile's ghost. There's no malice in any of these standout moments. He frets about excluding the blind with his juvenile, ten-minute long mime on a single signed phrase but a couple of visually-impaired punters in the front row offer their endorsement. Noble utters the most horrendous slur about Lionel Richie based on nothing but his lyrics before acting out a grovelling courtroom apology to the soul singer. He then presents the tale of appearing as a ne'er do well himself to aghast onlookers, thanks to some slapstick stupidity and a middle-aged wardrobe malfunction.

Doubtless mindful in the immediate aftermath of COP26 of the landfill problem of his huge, inflatable stage backdrop, a (relatively restrained by his own standards) mock-up of his own head split in twain, Noble's sympathies clearly lie with the teenage Thunberg. He makes quite the example of a maskless latecomer, but otherwise seems keener than ever to forge a communal atmosphere in these divisive times.

So practised is his trademark style of free-association, that his extended, filthy whimsy about an alternative method of wiping one's bottom (inspired by a tennis coach in the crowd) seems Noble-by-numbers. Thankfully though, the sign-language routine proves a tour-de-force of physical clowning with endless diversions and variations. It really energises the closing half-hour, which also benefits from an impromptu slamming of Alan Sugar and his fellow contestants on The Celebrity Apprentice Australia, an uncharacteristic but welcome bit of real-life grit added to his usual abstract fantasising.

Ross Noble: Humournoid tours until Friday 25 February; review from King's Theatre, Glasgow, Sunday 14 November.