We all like a bargain and when Danny Baker spun into Norwich Theatre Royal on Sunday he may have given some the bargain of the year.

So don't talk to me about Black Friday.

Danny, owning his East London pomp like a badge of honour, stalked left and right regaling the audience of yarn, sagas, and spiels for over four hours.

Indeed, OVER FOUR hours.

Four hours 20 if we're going to nitpick. And that's why I say some. As bum's were gradually being shuffled to my left, the guy ahead to me was a wide-eyed sponge for more.

Stories of family, friends, jobs, showbiz and holidays all punctuated with images on a screen. A family slideshow.

Typical fair we've seen before, but Danny is nothing like you've heard before.

Removing the articulation, he's got more in common with Kenneth Williams than you'd think. He stories and vocabulary have punch and style. His mouth is like a windup toy that never needs winding.

I haven't seen a man make more tangents than some poor soul being chased by particularly aggressive wasp in a park. And he did this elongated performance without asking for additional tanner.

Perhaps there may leave the issue of why the night was enjoyable and lovely rather than the sort of theatre that stays with you and the word of mouth goes viral. Direction.

If that four hours of silver was polished to the nth degree, he'd have gold. Another voice to say - clip that one, Danny. Maybe he did, and this was what was left. If you try to pen Baker and his flow, in, you'd lose him. You' would lose the man.

Danny Baker's mind works like a someone bailing out a boat with a sieve. The quicker he works, the longer he survives. Whether it was stories of his father, Spud, or Michael Jackson, they both had enough meat and juice to make the shuffle out in the Norwich night at 11.50pm worth every penny.

And I for one, wouldn't want it any other way.