John Bishop's last series of live dates "was less of a tour," he tells us, "and more of me just having a little drive around." But yesterday's nobody is today's BBC1 primetime star – which is the story of Bishop's current show, Sunshine. This dreams-come-true tale has more wish-fulfilment appeal than jokes, while the rest of the set comprises conventional domestic standup. But Bishop's blokeish manner is underpinned by an attractive emotional frankness. His good nature and sense of his own absurdity, alongside the calm authority of his storytelling, make Bishop difficult to dislike.
Mind you, likability is his project: Bishop does nothing to jeopardise his mass appeal. The venue is mocked for being posh; Bishop self-identifies as a prole, and invites us to see him – because he's married, middle-aged and a Scouser – as some kind of yokel. He's forever asserting the incongruity of his fame. ("That's that lad from Gavin and Stacey, asking me for a drink!") The punchlines are often weak – his routine about meeting Cheryl Cole scarcely has one. But punchlines aren't the point. This is about joining Bishop en route to stardom, and enjoying the ride.
For those undelighted by celebrity, Bishop also discusses his experiences as a husband and dad. The "teenagers are twats" shtick is standard issue, but he gives it a decent work-out. His married-life material is so old school it might have been written on slate. But there's something touching about his eagerness to impress his sons – while a reverie about killing his wife with a cereal spoon has the tang of dismaying truth. At the sight of Bishop's song-and-dance closer – a bell-bottomed celebration of ridiculous success – you have to admit: there are worse ways to use celebrity.
