After missing two of Stewart Lee’s previous Bristol dates there was no amount of wild weather savage enough to keep me from my seat at the Colston Hall. A long time fan of Lee’s unique style, I was willing to battle the ‘red weather warning’, walk for miles avoiding knee-high snow drifts, and ride home in a swerving unstable old taxi that bounced between the curbs like a dodgem. Say what you will about liberal conviction, we sure do have dedication when it comes to sitting in a room with people who affirm our beliefs in comedic fashion.

Ultimately, there was never any question of whether this intrepid journey was worth it, Stewart Lee is a master of comedy – his disarming use of rambling narrative and seemingly unscripted gesturing inevitably comes together in a tightly delivered final drop, in which every thread is pulled together from improbable and hilarious directions. Every one of his tales has layers of depth, from base humour to self-aware pretention, and although his protestations may be many, the crowd responded well to almost everything he said.

Unfortunately, there was a downside to this performance that had nothing to do with Stewart himself. As he rightly commented, the ‘sold-out’ show was half empty due to it being the worst weather warnings for many years on Thursday night, meaning the audience was a strange kind of mix of die-hard fans willing to risk life and limb, and people who happened to live nearby that didn’t want to waste their ticket. Of the latter, some clearly were not well versed in Stewart’s brand of comedy. It is the kind of comedy you have to stick with. You have to give each sentence equal weight and make the connections in your head as the act builds up to an always-flawless crescendo. For some, this was too much to ask, as the show was peppered with arrogant heckling from the back of the room.

Not to be uptight, but when a show is this critically acclaimed, this intelligently sculpted, and being put on in a venue that carries such weight – not to mention it being performed by someone of Lee’s calibre, heckling just isn’t appropriate. This wasn’t some stand-up open mic night, or arena comedian gurning and shrieking for cheap laughs – this was a sold-out show (of which dates had to be continuously added to make room for more people) of Britain’s most critically acclaimed comedian. Seemingly this person thought themselves hilarious enough to compete, but was unfortunately cut down in the prime of his comedy career by the rest of the audience who informed him in expletive-filled outbursts to simmer down, while Stewart casually eviscerated him with the comparative ease of a bored primary school teacher. Unfortunate though these outbursts were, they were dealt with in the best possible way. Stewart latched onto them and incorporated them flawlessly into the full act, elongating his exasperation and showing no weakness, so that we – the audience – turned on the heckler and sorted him out ourselves. This is the mark of someone worthy of the stage, and his masterful handling of the event actually served to add some familiarity and camaraderie to the night, but my advice to the young heckler would be – in future – don’t mess with Stewart Lee.

The show itself, part of the Content Provider tour, was perfectly orchestrated. Lee has a hold over his audience that allows him to move comfortably from topic to topic, sculpting a tale that curves back around at unexpected places, uses call-backs and inside jokes to appeal to his core demographic, and punches out with eye-watering social commentary. One of the most intelligent and unafraid leftie comedians of our time, he bit hard into Brexit, Trump, ‘the good old days’, and marched around on a carpet of 1p ebay copies of his comedic peers’ tour DVDs.

It took about 10 minutes of the show before I was weeping unashamedly with laughter, delving as he does into the strangest topics that leave you wondering where on earth he is going. Ultimately, the answer is always the same: somewhere ridiculous, hilarious, and devastatingly clever. As he told a tale about sourcing tens of copies of his own stand up DVD to make a profit of several pence, a gruelling war-time escapade to produce hessian potato-sack gimp masks, or his own family’s disbelief at his successful comedy career – the sense of chaos reigned until the very last sentence when suddenly it would all make sense. From even a literary point of view, this is a sizeable achievement, a testament to his many skills, and something that has to be seen to be believed.

Without giving too much away (the tour will be recorded and shown on TV in the coming months), my only take-away from this was to tell anyone and everyone I know to watch Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle on Netflix, scour his mailing list for upcoming Bristol dates over the following years and sell your home/organs/children to buy tickets. Comedy reaches new heights with Stewart Lee – but you may never laugh at the likes of Russell Howard again.