Iain Stirling and Sean McLoughlin

I felt a bit guilty laughing at Sean McLoughlin’s penile erectile dysfunction, but it is entirely his own fault for writing such a good set based around his malformed willy. McLoughlin is self-deprecating in the extreme, and patently desperate for a girlfriend. His rapid-fire rubbish is genuinely funny, and he gives good gag about American relatives on the other side of the pond, but it’s the things you go home and Google that stick with you. Suffice to say, you’ll have learned a new medical term by the time you leave this show.

Best Pal Iain Stirling is a slicker act. Stirling's half of the show revolves around him being an immature Scottish fud, and how much he revels in it. A recent escapee to the bright lights of London, he’s a smart, energetic chancer and knows it, with neatly observed material ranging from made-up Hindu gods, to taking his weejie pals out in Soho, to landing a job on TV because they assumed he could speak Gaelic (he can’t). However, he’s started to get into that awful Russell Kane/London thing, staggering about the stage in gimmicky low-crotched trousers and an ill-fitting neon pink t-shirt. No need to boast about your Bafta, Iain. Just keep making us laugh.