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Watching Russell Kane on stage is like setting light to a box of fireworks: you get a constant stream of explosions, you never quite know where they’ll end up, but you can’t help getting excited watching the bangs.

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From the moment he started his hour-plus set Kane delivered a frenetic combination of gags, anecdotes and unexplainable wild tangents that ranged from arthouse cinema to anal gases, riffing off the audience much more than relying on a rehearsed routine. I can’t even be sure there was a routine.

His humour covers some typical topics - romance and relationships, and especially his family (a rich mine so far, but in danger of being overplundered) - but it also weaves in more introspective commentary on his life as a comedian. It’s almost Stewart Lee on ecstasy and in improbably skinny jeans.

Kane’s winning run on Let’s Dance for Comic Relief was almost certainly a factor in him securing a four-night sell out run at the Playhouse, but it was his inventive and intelligent and idiotic comedy that left several audience members crying with laughter.

Russell Kane concludes at Norwich Playhouse on Friday. Call for returns.