What better way to end the weekend than at the Colosseum, with a beer, watching one of Britain's finest comedians?

That's exactly where I was on Sunday when Milton Jones took to the stage to entertain the packed auditorium.

I didn't finish my beer, however, as the risk involved in splurting out liquid, as I put the glass to my lips while Jones delivered his constant barrage of one liners, was too great.

From the moment his “grandfather” (who bore an extremely striking family resemblance) took to the stage, to the moment Jones himself left I barely had time to come up for air.

Relentless is the only way to describe Jones, whose repertoire ranges from surreal to cringeworthy, with the smallest smattering of harmless political incorrectness thrown in. But the one thing he consistently is, is funny.

One of the joys of watching Jones is the effort you have to put in to get his jokes. Sometimes this means getting to the punchline before he does, or even on occasion delivering it - in your head - for him. This is what he wants you to do of course, and he plays his audience with the utmost precision.

He is no less skilled in the art of the "running-joke", and his revisits to gags he told much earlier in the show, and on occasion even told by his warm-up act, again requires the audience to be constantly on their toes.

But as long as you can stay on his wavelength the reward, time after time, is a guaranteed fit of laughter.