"Hello, I am your scumbag for the evening." Skilful compere Kiri Pritchard-McLean set the tone for this gig with her very first salvo. For comedians used to dodging the heckles and inflatable cocks at stag and hen dos on a Saturday night this new monthly gig must be a delight. It takes place in a private school in Dulwich in a state-of-the-art theatre that puts a lot of Fringe venues to shame. The audience is receptive and polite, though luckily not too polite to laugh in all the right places.

If you are going to see Young Frankenstein please leave your political correctness antennae in the cloakroom. I counted three gags about breasts in the first fifteen minutes and the rest of the show is positively peppered with the kind of smutty humour that makes the Carry On films seems like Chekhov. And yet somehow this doesn't matter. In this age of triggers and safe spaces it feels a bit old school to say this, but you'll probably be laughing too much to care.

If the idea of The Old Comedian of the Year final conjures up images of Zimmer frames and senior moments nothing could be further from the truth. You only need to be 35 to enter, so I’ll be eligible myself in a few years. At 83 compere Lynn Ruth Miller was easily the oldest person on the stage and she was as sharp as a hat pin, keeping the crowd onside with her briskly delivered reflections on geriatric sex or the lack of it and much more.