Dylan Moran makes a point of there being no point to his show. His trademark is shambling charm, and on the first night of this two-week residency, he's as shambling and charming as ever. But a West End show can't survive on twinkle alone. And, given Moran's evident intelligence, he too rarely shambles beyond a fairly banal range of comic subjects. If there's one thing less funny than the differences between men and women, it's stand-up comics who reflect on them.
The show's opening salvo promises more. On the eve of the US election, Moran turns his fire not on Bush, but on anti-Bushism; on the fact that there's nothing more to be said about Dubya's awfulness. It's a satisfying subversion, and we sit back waiting for more. But soon, Moran's poking fun at foreign accents, and - horror of horrors! - telling us how amusing his children are. Kids may indeed say the funniest things, but something invariably gets lost in the translation to stand-up comedy.
I get the impression, not for the first time, that Moran is smarter than his material suggests. There are vivid passages that reveal a comedian who needn't be wasting our time talking about women's passion for shoes. When he chooses to, he upends such clichés with relish. Witness his hilarious discussion of military mottoes: Death Before Dishonour, say, or Who Dares Wins. "What's the prize?" asks Moran. "What if it's a bicycle and I no longer have any legs?"
Likewise when he objects to the self-help mantra "release your potential", on the basis that you might have less potential than you imagine. The joke inflates into a lyrical comic metaphor in which Moran characterises his potential as an unseen room behind a locked door. Contrary to his own low expectations, I suspect there are many more incisive comic riffs behind that door than the ones he's deploying tonight.
· Until November 13. Box office: 0870 060 6633.
