There is an explosive quality to this magnificent stand-up. Dara O'Briain began his set at machine-gun pace and simply did not let up for a moment. Anyone who knows this burly Irishman from his presenting the admirable Mock The Week on television has seen only the acorn of his talent; the packed New Theatre audience saw the finished, oak-tree, product.

Actually, even when he obviously did let up - during the short interval - O'Briain was still working: he downloaded some facts about Devizes which were absolutely relevant to his good-natured taunting of a cattle-herdsman from that town who had made the mistake of sitting in the front row (almost too perfect a job-description for a situation like this, but we shall let that pass!).

Describing his show as "a very muscular form of crazy golf", Dara O'Briain paced the stage restlessly, hitting target after target with precision: God help anyone in the audience into homeopathy, attendance at gyms, "clothes shops that exceed their brief" or, indeed, was a nutritionist. Softish targets, it might be thought, but each dealt with hilariously. This was humour of the very highest quality. O'Briain's constant use of the f-word was somehow much less disconcerting than that from the less discerning Jimmy Carr (whom he eclipses), and the free association of ideas with which he runs is less structured than the areas in which Ricky Gervais operates - and the better for it.

I read recently that Dara O'Briain takes care to work on new material in small venues before taking on larger - and higher-paying - audiences. If so, that preparation has worked triumphantly for this tour. His interplay with the Oxford audience in general - and five individuals in particular - was of the highest order. I simply cannot see how he does this stuff night after night.

No, there isn't going to be a hint of a . . . but' in this review.