If you’re familiar with Jeremy Hardy from the likes of The News Quiz, then it will come as no surprise that this is a satirical show. And Hardy’s engagement with politics is genuine, not something that is just played for laughs – but this is partly the problem. Unlike satirists such as Ian Hislop, Hardy’s politics are so obvious (the show could have been titled “Why I love Corbyn”) that the emphasis was more political than humorous. After almost an hour of Corbyn-worship, without even a hint of criticism, I was starting to get a little bored.

Hardy clearly knows his demographic: mostly middle-aged (often “superannuated,” he admits), middle-class leftists and the kind of language he uses and the topics he touches upon reflect this. Where else would you find a stand-up discussing nationalisation (“we’ve conveniently forgotten just how bad British Rail was”), ISIS radicalisation (“the solution: compulsory masturbation in secondary schools”) and allotment gluts. As someone who wasn’t alive during the 1970s, I often found myself feeling that I wasn’t in on the joke, desperately searching my memory for clips from The Good Life so that I too might find the idea of swede for dinner every day as funny as everyone else seemed to. And yet, ironically, when Hardy allowed himself to veer away from the political, onto more personal territory, he was often at his most engaging. Certainly, talking about his mum’s nursing home or his National Trust membership felt less like a diatribe, albeit with a political point still being made.

Hardy was so passionate at times, attacking Blair as much as any Tory, that he then completely forgot what he was talking about, resulting in embarrassing silences and, as Nicholas Parsons would have it, hesitation and repetition. Yet at his best, Hardy came out with memorable one liners (“David Cameron has no idea about music: he thinks Van Morrison is Ocado for poor people”) and performed two-way conversations, mimicking bankers, racist bigots and Nigel Farage. It was these slightly more surreal moments that garnered the most applause and provided a welcome break from Hardy’s rail-at-the right persona.

If you’re happy to spend the evening at what appears to be a Labour Party conference with a few laughs thrown in for good measure, then this is the show for you. If however, you prefer the superficial silliness of mainstream comics and don’t really want to have to engage your brain too much, it’s probably best you stay home and watch Have I Got News For You.