No one doubts that Reginald D Hunter is one of the most intelligent stand-ups on the circuit - least of all Hunter himself. The twice Perrier-nominated American is a straight-talkin' comedy preacher man, instructing us all how to be better people in his distinctive deep south drawl. He can be relied on for thoughtful, substantial comedy - this year's set is about the deals, or compromises, we all make to conduct our lives with minimal friction. But sometimes Hunter projects an air of righteousness that can be off-putting, and of a profundity that the material doesn't always justify.
The supposed boldness of his joke about the taboo surrounding Jews, for example, has been undercut by the fact that several other comics are saying something similar. (Hence this year's mini-furore about Fringe comedy and anti-Semitism.) But "I don't care any more," says Hunter with a swagger and a grin, announcing a set that will pull no punches. It starts with an account of the difficulties Hunter got into by being frank with his girlfriend about her appearance. It ends with wise words from his dad, who has just made a startling admission about his sexual history. "Sometimes you got to choose between honesty and people, cos you can't have both most of the time."
Sometimes Hunter's plain-speaking might profitably have paused for rethinking, as with his flimsy theory that civilisation could never have developed without rape. His material on the treatment he receives from white Britons, meanwhile, will be over-familiar to long-time Reg-watchers. But at his best, Hunter remains both funny and thought-provoking, as with an extended riff about our unfamiliarity with the sight of our own fundaments.
"If you can't have a look at your own asshole," reasons Reg, "what else can't you look at?" Confident, smart and supremely in control, Hunter is one of few stand-ups who can talk about the gusset while keeping his eye trained on the stars.
· Box office: 0870 745 3083. Until Aug 28.
