There is no doubt about Canadian Mike Wilmot's comic performance. The problem is how to put it in a family newspaper.

The first word was of the four-letter variety and set the tone for a face-achingly funny evening.

Canadians, British, Irish and French were digested in Wilmot's fast-paced dialogue as he mused that at least there is a channel between Britain and France.

As Wilmot chain-smoked and drank his way through the show, breasts, farting and oral sex were some of the milder topics.

Judging by the peals of laughter from the audience, his gags about male and female sexual performance hit the mark. Tears flowed as his mock flatulence propelled him across the stage like a spluttering jet engine and blokes roared along with his utterances about women not talking but downloading.

Caravanners with their toilets by the stove, playing Grand Theft Auto in real life, the useless walkie-talkies we were given as kids and turning 40 all came in for a tongue lashing.

Crude, downright rude and as politically incorrect as a man devouring a 20oz T-bone steak at a vegetarian convention, Wilmot's comedic look was still hilarious leaving grown men crying and women squealing with laughter.