If Ross Noble wasn't a comedian he would probably be locked away in a laboratory where scientists could try to fathom out the workings of his phenomenal mind.

Either that or he could find a place at a school for the gifted but misdirected. Watching Noble perform is not like seeing an ordinary comedian. It requires an extra level of attention to keep track of the spider's web of ideas, stories and jokes he weaves before your eyes.

Picking up on every small detail of what he said and every movement and outburst from the audience, Noble added strand upon strand to the intricately weave while never forgotting a single part of it.

Time and again during his two-hour set he returned to jokes touched upon, or stories started, much earlier.

At times he used this to frustrate and tease the audience. One story, about why he had been walking in a funny way when he was spotted out and about in Brighton, started at the beginning of the performance and only finished at the very end.

It turned out Noble had tripped his wife and she had fallen in to him, bursting a Cornish pasty stowed in his pocket and causing the hot chicken tikka contents to burn his leg.

The only thing moving faster than Noble's mouth was his brain. The show's title Fizzy Logic summed up the process perfectly.

It often seemed he had completely lost the thread of where he was going, taking wild tangents into the concepts such as using the Queen as a postage stamp for a delivery to the Moon, before eventually bringing the audience back to a story he started half an hour earlier.

He fizzed between the pointlessness of religion, the danger of having a leg pinned in reverse (and the difficulty of performing the can-can afterwards), training dogs to be arrested ("up against the wall, scumbag!") and the perils of having a bum transplanted on your face.

A fizzy, random and great performance by a comedian in his prime.

For more information go to www.paramountcomedyfestival.com