Darren Harriott @ Pleasance Courtyard

It is kind of mesmerising how redundant Darren Harriott’s mic is. He pinches it like a mini-fan – which would arguably be more use in this sweaty little room – while his voice pitches between deafening and startlingly loud. But his personality abounds, and his hit rate per minute is pretty darn high.

What he does particularly well is pay heed to madness: the craziness of growing up a drug dealer's son; the hilarity in Haile Selassie’s death; the inherent insanity in what ordinary people say and do – then relay it back (loudly) to everyone in the room. These are the best types of observations – novel, clear and belly laugh contagious.

However, scratch a little deeper, and you discover madness – real madness – threaded through Harriott’s family. His father, an addict with severe mental problems, killed himself in jail; his brother also has schizophrenia. In another narrator’s hands we’d be looking at the Tragic Life Stories aisle at WH Smiths; with Harriott we’re falling about laughing. It's only a shame that he runs out of steam somewhat shy of the end and starts adding unplanned filler to an otherwise remarkable set.

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Darren Harriott: Defiant, Pleasance Courtyard (The Attic), 2-27 Aug (not 16). 9.30pm, £7.50-£10