What has Sean Lock got to complain about? A nice regular gig on 8 Out of 10 Cats, occasional forays into other quiz shows when he fancies it and a sell-out live tour, which reaches London this weekend. Well, apart from the fact that the BBC, for reasons best known to itself, never repeats his vastly underrated slow-burn sitcom 15 Storeys High, it would seem that he has plenty of other things to get off his chest - he spent most of his gloriously crafted impressively energetic two-hour set last night venting his surrealism-tinged spleen.
There is something oddly old-fashioned, almost music hall about Lock. Even before the blokey, besuited stand-up did an Eric Morecambe impression he had made me think of Ernie Wise's other half in the way he had a habit of coming out with a "Wa-hey!". Elsewhere he did a Bruce Forsyth voice that was so accurate you could have been forgiven for thinking that the chinny octogenarian had walked onstage to give Lock a breather.
Yet he combines these old school variety tropes with a distinctive, uniquely skewed take on the world. As with the title of the show, Purple Van Man, Lock has an off-kilter take on the most mundane of subjects, wondering what music might be like if it was a gas or noting that despite the exciting-sounding name, nobody has ever been pleased about a bus replacement service: "this is brilliant. Much better than the train…"
There is also something deliciously classic-yet-modern about his references to his domestic set-up. He never succumbs to mother-in-law gags, but there is lots here about his relationship with his long-suffering wife and their communication problems. Why can't she be fun like his mates down the pub? In other words, why can't she talk rubbish all evening? Incidentally, maybe it was a Friday night thing but boy, was this a boozy crowd - the gig started late because the audience could not be dragged away from the bar and it was noticeable that a routine about binge-drinking got one of the biggest cheers – when Lock talked about liking a pint or five himself I thought he was going to be lifted up by four burly lads, paraded around the room and annointed King of England.
Lock's finest skill, however, is to take something seemingly ordinary and obvious and weave something extraordinary and unusual out of it. An early section revolved around jobs that he thinks are overrated. All pharmacists do is match up writing and as for opticians, it's the patient that does all the hard work. Later he pulled off some similarly inspired chunks of nutty logic imagining radio stations for obscure forms of music or badly-designed mythical animals.
His constantly simmering anger with the world is way more sophisticated that mere middle-aged Meldrewisms. For every throwaway gag about meerkats that is something more subtle, even political. He might use comedy foreign accents but he does it to make a point. He might rage against reality TV like countless others, but it feels like he really means it when he puts the boot into Ant & Dec.
And towards the end of the show his irritation turns more overtly political. It is interesting how even benign comedians such as Bill Bailey and Lock are clearly so enraged by the state of the nation these days that they have started to lace their flights of fancy with genuine satirical material. Lock's targets – Boris, Miliband, etc – might feel off-the-peg, but his bile feels genuine and bespoke. At heart he is still the boozer down the boozer who wonders how long you could live if you only ate toffee apples, but he also wants to make the world a better place. I don't know if he can achieve that, but after all the laughter at a Sean Lock gig the world is certainly a happier place. No complaints about that.
Sean Lock is at Hammersmith Apollo until Sunday then touring. Ticket details here. The DVD of Purple Van Man is out on November 18. Order here.
