I do wish Stewart Francis would get a move on and write his new show, as he told me last week he was doing. On Sunday evening at the New Theatre, I was worried for a time that anyone who might have read my review of his show at the North Wall a year ago would have had a distinct sense of déjà vu.

But this cool comic delivers his standard fare in so engaging a manner that he is easy to forgive. It is his tight command of language as a whole and unexpected clausal links in particular that makes Francis a one liner without peer at the moment. Thus: “I’m not very good at hide and seek, I think you’ll find” or “I farted in a crowded lift today, which was wrong on so many levels”.

Then there is the off-the-wall clever approach: “Unfortunately for agoraphobics, a cure is just around the corner” and “My hobbies include rewiring microwave ovens and meeting firemen”. Everything is delivered deadpan, with a small smile of satisfaction if one particular line caught fire with the audience. “Where I had been opposed, I am now in favour of fat people being buried together. The plot thickens.”

Francis may on occasion seem just a tad too pleased with himself: in self-deprecating style he stops suddenly, stares out and oozes: “My, he looks like a young Harrison Ford/Richard Gere/James Garner . . .” It worked the first time, But overall he was affably excellent — no one will have felt short-changed by his 70-minute set, supported by young stand-up Matt Rudge with some spiky material.

The comparison with Ross Noble on the same stage exactly a week earlier was extraordinary: Noble’s surreal wanderings, Francis’s tightly controlled script. I leave you with my favourites of the night.

“So what if I can’t spell Armageddon — it’s not the end of the world.”

“Some of my best friends are racists, OK? K K . . .”