Give or take a few letters (and here's betting the Cambridge graduate wouldn't allow such linguistic laxity), Jimmy Carr is the comedian who puts the crass into middle class.

With his grey suit, slick side parting and delicate gestures, he's the type who will shake your hand after a one-night stand, brew a pot of tea to replenish those bodily fluids and, if you ask politely, initial your penis back-stage.

Put bluntly, he's the sort of comedian who objected to Kinga's drunken Big Brother antics on the grounds you shouldn't have red wine with fish.

And if that reference has passed blissfully over your head, so would much of Carr's set, which ranged from the obligatory jokes about Brighton's sexual proclivities to the pick of his own line in greetings cards ("Nothing's worse than dying all alone after being tied up for three days in a shed. So be my Valentine".)

Occasionally, Carr's well-oiled gag machine shifted from subversive sexism into delivering fresh insights.

"You want the concrete proof that women are less bothered by looks?" he asked. "Well it all comes down to 'happy faces', and even Brad Pitt, in the throes of sexual ecstasy, would look like he was drinking vinegar through his eyes."

The show began with a Bo-Selecta version of Carr warning, via video, that "to avoid disappointment" we should "lower expectations".

As it turned out, the only disappointment was that Saturday's show wasn't being signed for the deaf - apparently Carr ups the quota of jokes about oral sex.