Sean Hughes had it all: The doyen of student humour, a critically acclaimed novelist and highly paid panel guest.

After quitting Never Mind the Buzzcocks his star faded but now, after seven years off the circuit, he returns to stand-up.

He bounds on to the stage to a Carpenters tune and with a flurry of jokes about biscuits and cuddly toys, we're back in familiar territory. He looks tired - but then he always did.

Still there's a noticeable edge.

Playing to predominantly white audiences, this is the Klu Klux Klan Tour.

"Never take ecstasy in a Holocaust museum," he muses. This is where he makes his mark. Why should he care if he's getting laughs, he adds, after all, he's got "sacks of cash in the bank".

Besides, wearing brown on a brown stage under yellow and red lights, this was never going to be that exciting. So why is he here?

Hughes was known for his mix of whimsy and surrealism but soon his laughs come quicker and cheaper. His wit becomes caustic, uncomfortably so at times, his natural silliness giving way to schoolboy vulgarities.

Suddenly, you wonder if all older comedians go through this phase of wishing to be Jim Davidson but a final recollection of being caught in the tsunami sits badly with what's come before. Likening Rhohypnal to American women and picking on ushers just isn't going to cut it.

He retains his easy charm but this is not the Sean of old, this is just an older Sean. He should have stuck to taking the biscuit.