Sophie Duker is happy to tell you that she’s delulu (to the uninitiated, that’s a decidedly camp flavour of delusional). This, she thinks, suits her well. She runs through the crowd, hyping them up like a champion wrestler, performs a tune-challenged but witty musical number, and picks an audience member to be her temporary father. Her energy is so boundless and infectious that it’s hard not to smile in her presence. 

It is disappointing, then, that Duker breaks no new ground in But Daddy I Love Her. She stays clearly within the bounds set by the current comedy vogue: the messiness of your 20s and early 30s, therapy sessions, daddy issues. It’s the latter that forms the thematic backbone of her set, and despite each individual joke landing successfully, there is an overall sense of aimlessness. The hour’s strongest element is certainly the excellent rapport Duker fosters with her audience, which easily surpasses any of her rehearsed set-ups and pay-offs. If she crafted a more cohesive throughline, her tales of awkward dates and scrapes with ineffective ‘fructose fathers’ (or sugar daddies, in common parlance) would soar to far greater heights. 

Sophie Duker: But Daddy I Love Her, Pleasance Courtyard, until 25 August, 7pm; main picture: Sarah Harry-Isaacs.