The Pub Landlord, Al Murray's bigoted alter-ego, would hate Brighton.

He would loathe the trendy bars, the students and computer programmers, the people without good, solid English names such as Dave or Barry and he would be far too close to France for his liking.

The feeling isn't mutual.

Murray's Little England caricature was playing the audience like a yob virtuoso within minutes of strutting on to the Corn Exchange stage.

The reason, of course, is that the real Al Murray has as much time for the grotesque "guv'nor" as the maroon-jacketed one would have for England's gay capital.

Like a badger under a country pub, Murray undermined his creation's every beer-sodden utterance.

The Pub Landlord has been doing the rounds for a few years now but happily Murray didn't coast on the well-worn catchphrases.

The ladies obviously know what they're supposed to be drinking by now.

As long as Britain has its bar-room loudmouths there will be material for the Guv'nor but I had to wonder how much life could be left in the joke.

Underneath the Alf Garnett veneer is a clever bloke so maybe it's time for something different. Will the real Al Murray please stand up?

Review by Nigel Davies-Patrick, features@theargus.co.uk