Simon Evans is 60. He states this fact at the start of his set, and it provides the foundation for the themes and most of the jokes that ensue, as well as a handy marker for the average age of his audience (and I am no outlier). The set begins with a string of references to 1970s comedians – Tommy Cooper, Frankie Howerd, Leonard Rossiter as Rigsby (to whom Evans acknowledges his uncanny resemblance) – as Evans develops his thesis that the 59 Club is the light entertainment equivalent of rock’s 27 Club.

Jokes about his teenage children, jokes about his aging parents – all perceptive and funny, all very well done.  Jokes about the absence of Evans’ eyes; and it is true that he has small eyes which, when he squints under the lights are reduced to mere slits. It’s funny and self-deprecating. Yet one has a feeling that this is all a prelude to the real business of the show, as indicated by its title, ‘Staring at the Sun’. It is, Evans tells us, a reference to the allegory of Plato’s Cave – that world of shadows from which the philosopher escapes, sees the sun and the real world it shines on, and returns to tell the Cave-dwellers what they’re missing.

He promises us he’ll explore this in the second half of the show. Sounds great. An investigation into appearance and reality, a take-down of the puppeteers who present the illusory shadows (of news, media and the arts) which most of us take for real life, conducted by a guide as witty and astute as Simon Evans – well, it’s not too much to say that I was salivating. 

Evans is a commanding stage presence. His delivery is rapid and assured, his accent confident and middle class, like a brigadier issuing the order of the day. He also has the ability to turn out well-formed, grammatically perfect sentences on the hoof – not only in the prepared material but when interacting with the audience.  At one point he confides that he is one of the two or three right-wing stand-ups working in Britain at the moment.

I have to say that for me he didn’t come across as right-wing. His views, so far as one could glean them, seemed like pretty mainstream liberal humanist stuff (and as a mainstream liberal humanist myself, I’m fine with that). It’s true that he gets in a couple of digs at well-known alt-comics Stewart Lee and Rosie Jones, and he defends Ricky Gervais against the attacks of the latter. But after all, Lee and Jones can dish it out, so they ought to be able to take it. (But what is it, by the way, with comedians slagging off other comedians for their political views? How did that get to be a thing?)

Later, Evans does a routine about having a ‘Hitler room’ in his house, full of hagiographies ands marble busts. This, I take it, is Evans’ satirical comment on the way that any opinions outside the conventional pieties are branded as ‘fascist’. 

But I didn’t come here for the politics. Not in the narrow sense. I’m waiting for the exploration of appearance and reality through the lens of Plato’s Republic. Get on with it, Evans!

He begins the second half with an extended riff on Canadian rock band Rush, including a chat with a hardcore Rush fan in the audience, followed by an extended routine on Samuel Taylor Coleridge. And then, digression after digression: on youthful holidays, on the ills of the flesh. Dysentery, depression, testosterone replacement therapy.

He might be straying from his philosophical thesis, but he’s doing it brilliantly. However, I keep glancing at my watch and wondering if there’ll be any time left for the Plato. With five minutes to go, he confirms there won’t. ‘Sorry, haven’t got time for the philosophy stuff now, but you probably wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway’. 

Well, I bet I would. I enjoyed the Coleridge, and I’d have enjoyed the Plato. When the lights go up, I clap heartily. I like Simon Evans and he made me laugh a lot. Nevertheless, the show didn’t deliver what it promised. Maybe I’ll go and see Evans again. Perhaps next time I’ll strike a night where we explore Plato’s Cave. 

Simon Evans interview and tour dates link here. 

Brandon Robshaw’s latest book is an introduction to philosophy for children, Weird Philosophy (Puffin). Buy it here.