Ricky Gervais is a hard man to pin down.

One of this country’s most successful ever comedians, he is a global superstar who, he is not shy to point out has grown very wealthy.

Having won over America, he is now ensconced on Hampstead’s millionaire’s row. Yet he remains a cheeky, endearingly irreverent Reading lad – painfully aware of his own shortcomings but assured enough in his personal philosophy that he can confidently confront those he despises for taking offence at the wrong things.

It is this issue of readily taking offence – ‘outrage culture – which acts as a recurring theme throughout this extremely funny show. And those devoted to notions of political correctness may wish to look away.

It is not one section of society that attracts his ire. On the contrary, it is the notion of self-censorship.

“Making a joke about something is not the same as agreeing with that thing,” he argues – and backs up his case by poking fun at almost every taboo subject. It should be horrifying, but in his wide eyed faux-innocence it is hilarious. A section where he rails against proud parents who insist on showing you photos of their children – and on the correct amount of time you should spend looking at the picture – is eye-wateringly funny.

No one is immune from his rapier wit. And no one else would get away with it. Rather like Russell Brand, a few weeks ago, he looks at his own life and counters criticism – including those who insist on asking him why he hasn’t had children (because he’s rich, he argues, it would be an insufferable brat), twitter trolls and his Hollywood A-list-mocking Golden Globes speeches.

One thing that particularly gets to him is the righteous indignation caused by his jokes at the expense of Caitlyn Jenner – formerly the Olympic gold medal winning decathlete Bruce Jenner – who he mocked not for being transsexual but for being a terrible driver (she had been involved in a fatal car crash).

He was lambasted, above all for referring to her past existence as Bruce (“But I remember him... and he was really big!” he says plaintively).

It’s close to the knuckle stuff, but Ricky pulls it off with childlike honesty. And it is painfully funny.

TIM HUGHES 5/5