Around twenty years ago Stewart Lee talked about the use of a chalk circle as a metaphoric protection for comedians, following the medieval clowning traditions of the South of France. The circle allows for the comedian to provoke, attack the state and its representatives, and satirise, without fear of retribution. He also recorded a Radio Four documentary about the clowning traditions of the Hopi, Native American rituals bordering on hazing for the community, chaos engendering and violent, featuring mild kidnapping and child scaring with an undercurrent of purification, protected from retribution by the very sanctity of the traditions they are enacting.

I mention this because one of the themes of this current live show is about ‘protection’ and ‘offence’, and how the current ‘chalk circle’ of choice seems to be a Netflix contract, the circle bordered with millions of dollars to protect from the ‘cancellation’ that shock comedians claim to be encumbered with. The show begins with an explanation of what is to follow, and Lee’s attempts to use audience interaction to set up future callbacks. This itself is layered and nuanced: a request for an audience member to name their favourite neolithic monument is at once indicative of how “the comedian Stewart Lee” is unable to construct a normal question for his audience, a ludicrous question to land on a stranger in any circumstance, and on the surface level works because of the probable inability of the audience member to think of any answer other than Stonehenge. On this occasion, the audience member’s given answer added a further level of confusion that allowed Lee to add to the deliberate air of catastrophe that runs through his performances. Oh, mine? The Rudston Monolith, since you ask.

The ‘liberal’ stand up then follows, a Lee who is “sick of his own thoughts”, treating us to several jokes around the current Labour government, and the opposition of course, before talking about those shock comedians, and showing how ‘shock value’ is really just a matter of context. At one point, while delivering a lengthier story while stool bound, he shot to the edge of the stage to demand a phone to be put away, eventually confiscating it. He’s right to do this because various things he says here – and in the past – could and have been cut out, stuck onto social media out of context and used to generate backlash. This is also after spending some time railing about the “second screen” requirements of Netflix productions, and having castigated various audience members for coming in late, full immersion being quite essential to appreciate the layers of this stand up, and the on-stage persona’s near abusive (and hilarious) antagonism to his audience being another comedic layer to digest.

Lee asks the question, why can ‘liberal’ comedy not achieve the same level of ferocity that comedians such as Gervais and Chapelle achieve, is there a way to unlock the inner beast of a leftie luvvie? This allows a segue into a bit of humorous stage mismanagement, a spooky moorland story and an attack setting up the second half, in which Lee unveils the Man-Wulf, both a satire and literal visualisation of what right-wing comedy is, in a costume which he states cost thousands of pounds, with the most hilarious element being the tiny werewolf lipstick representing the tiny dick energy of those comedians he is attacking. The Man-Wulf delivers in the voice and style of Andrew Dice Clay, an impersonation familiar to long standing fans, insane and debauched. There’s a layer of physical comedy to this as well, literal clowning fully addressed by Lee, whose physical collapse allows a return to his almost normal form, still in costume, as following thesis and antithesis we get a synthesis, a Man-Wulf of the liberal variety, whose stylings go to attempt to answer the various questions raised before.

There can never be a real answer to any of those questions of course, the character on stage remains as puzzled as ever by his apparent inability to have his own Netflix specials left, right and centre. And whether he is left, right or centre. Equally, it’s not quite right to characterise the onstage Lee as a bitter character, rather he seems almost Quixotic in his pursuit of some perfect performance, while the stage, theatre staff and audience deliberately, unwittingly, sabotage each performance. So when he makes a dig at Taskmaster, or says that his next show will be called “Oh Shit I’m Sixty” before saying that would be a stupid title for a show, he’s probably only as serious as when he complains about the night life in Scunthorpe, or about having to perform in what is effectively an empty swimming pool. Probably. After all, The Baths Hall is brilliant, acoustically excellent, has wonderful staff and is a true community theatre.

So, Stewart Lee as ever is brilliant, Man-Wulf is highly entertaining, and the show can be engaged with on various levels, as a satire, a stand-up show, physical comedy and social commentary. Of course, as a beardy middle-aged man and Gen X fan of Stewart Lee, that’s exactly the sort of thing I would say about it.