How prepared are we to laugh at Muslim fundamentalism, and how comfortable are British Muslims laughing at the beardie-boy jihadis in their midst? On the evidence of Jeff Mirza's brave, if sometimes cack-handed, run through the gallery of Islamic bogeymen now hogging the headlines, not very. Comical Ali and his beautician mum - "Iraq has not fallen, there are still pedicures going on in Um Qusar" - are all very well, and believer and infidel laughed as one at some spot-on gags about Guantanamo Bay, but, as soon as Abu Hamza, the cleric with a hook for a hand, appeared, the room fell silent.
Awkward silences are the stuff from which some of the most interesting comedy can be mined, but having cut to the bone with all the delicacy of a butcher after marrow, Mirza seemed to lose confidence in his material. And by then so had we. Having Hamza thank the audience for his invalidity benefit and the washing machine their tax had paid for went down like a pork pie at a kurban.
Mirza did not bomb, but it took all of his considerable charm to avert a tragedy.
· Until August 24. Box office: 0870 745 3083.
