It is surely cause for celebration that an ‘everyman’ like John Bishop can rise from middle class obscurity to become the country’s highest-earning comedian.

Just 12 years ago, the affable scouser was a rep for a pharmaceutical firm – a regular football-loving suburban dad-of-three. It was only when his stumbling attempts at stand-up started earning admirers and awards that he quit the day job and took the plunge for a career in laughs – and ended up in the premier league. It’s a modern day fairy tale.

He admits he still can’t quite believe that he has acquired such fame, so quickly. The theme was explored further in his book How Did All This Happen – published four years ago?

The problem is, our John still can’t believe it; that sense of Lottery-winner’s awe being the mainstay of his routine, eclipsing the old fashioned business of telling jokes and, you know, being funny.

His current tour which called in at the New Theatre Oxford, is called Winging It – and it is appropriately-titled.

It once again sees John going on about how famous he is, yet, crucially, how he still has time for his old mates. Nice John. As if anyone would dare admit otherwise.

The first half of the show saw him going on at great length about a trip he took to Boston with those mates to see a baseball game – “basically rounders” he says to appreciative applause from an audience of clearly devoted fans.

While there, they realised that the the city was hosting a gig by their favourite band U2. The only problem was, they didn’t have tickets and the show was sold out.

Yet, ventures one of his mates, if John is as famous as he makes out, surely he can get them all into the concert? The story is long, bristling with showbiz shoulder-rubbing, clanging name dropping and a fairly predictable conclusion.

What saved it from just another boring celebrity anecdote was John’s wide-eyed wonder and charming delivery. His audience were with him all the way loving this cheeky-chappy’s Northern nerve.

‘I am one of you’” he seems to be saying. ‘You would do the same in my position’. But we are not, and never will be, and it therefore comes across as old-fashioned showing off – the equivalent of your spoilt schoolfriend in the corner of the playground going on about their lavish tropical holiday, when you spent summer at the seaside in the rain.

That’s not to say it wasn’t funny. It was – the punchline was a killer, and true. But is that what we seek from comedy?

Things were more conventionally amusing in the second half, with John going on about the angst of his grown-up children leaving home and the sort of inoffensive domestic observational comedy which has made the painfully middle-of-the-road Michael McIntyre a household name. Oh, and he told us about his pets – which, because he has done so well, include horses and alpacas.

John Bishop is a great raconteur, good to his mates and family and his audience love him – some even giving him a standing ovation. But the time is surely right for him to embrace his fame and take that wit in a more challenging, thought-provoking direction.