Who the hell is Reggie Watts? While your average comic spends their act inflicting a laboured persona on their audience, Watts pinballs between multiple personalities with not a whisper to give away which one he really is … if any.

The Seattle-based performer (comedian, musician or songwriter all seem a little reductive) is bafflingly, brilliantly disorientating, and perhaps the funniest thing I’ve seen live in a long time.

While most beatboxers get a three-minute gimmick out of a loop machine, Reggie Watts cuts his newly-invented tracks off before they’ve started, or allows them to bloom into huge, textured bliss-outs.

But don’t go looking for a narrative here; beneath a mist of curls he moves between the loop machine, the mic and a gorgeous-sounding Fender Rhodes keyboard, all the while spinning off into cod-Metaphysical poetry, dance, and some genuinely impressive singing.

There’s something Chaplin-esque about the kind of physical comedy that sees him trying to get just the right mic position for so long it actually becomes funny again, but Watts also uses his words beautifully … though usually in the wrong order.

Celtic mysticism, bling culture and Chris Rock-style observational comedy were all sent up – or possibly celebrated – over a show that achieves that rare thing of being very sincerely surreal. Truly brilliant.