Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle

Stewart Lee interview

He divides audiences like no other comedian, his fans hanging on every word of his rambling monologues, his critics raging at the lack of laughs. Stewart Lee explains his pleasure at being hated - and why he doesn't do 'jokes'.

Stewart Lee is wrong about the internet killing comedy

By railing against the tyranny of tweets the comedian has dismissed an alternative universe of wonderfully weird humour.

The last of Stewart Lee's virtuoso stand-up performances - except for the second time this series, he's actually sitting down. Tonight the sardonic comic tells a tall tale about meeting a young David Cameron at Oxford in the mid-Eighties. Lee sums up the coalition government thus: "Despite being bred for power, Cameron was only able to get it by hooking up with Nick Clegg. It's like a foxhound that's only able to catch foxes with the assistance of a chihuahua." Recommission please, BBC.

Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle looked at identity. Actually, that's not exactly true. His real subject, as it had been the previous week, and the week before that I'd guess, was stand-up comedy itself. And if self-reflexive-comedy sounds a very long way from a good laugh, Lee, it should be said, is a meta-standup without equal. But his approach can make for a relentlessly self-conscious experience both for him and us.

The puzzling existence of till receipts was deemed "bullet-proof observational comedy", as was the fact, according to Lee, that "that there are no Scottish women". When the word "nook" during another passage drew a titter, Lee's eyes lit up and he swerved into a monologue that teased this slight revelation of prurience in his audience. Lee is undeniably funny - just be careful what you laugh at.

Stewart Lee could have spun the globe wherever he fancied and found plenty of material for Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle (BBC2). This week the theme of what is consistently the funniest show on British TV was national identity, easy pickings for a comedian with Lee's engaging line in world-weary hacked-offness.

On the face of it, Lee took on some easy targets, with Scots and Australians taking the bulk of his ire. William Wallace's sexuality, Scotch eggs - you'll never eat one again - and the spectrum of Australian cultural life ('smoothie... or heroin?') made for an engaging and unapologetic rant.
But shouldn't a cutting-edge comedian be taking a pop at rather more contentious choices and shoving his head above the multicultural parapet?
The answer came in one of Lee's growled asides; not really punchlines to jokes, more a comedy train crashing into the buffers. 'You get the shows you deserve,' he scowled and suddenly the joke was on everyone, me included, who'd been howling along at how daft everyone else is except us.

We travel and we eat fusion cuisine but really we know we're stuck in a parochial past. No one gets up our noses more than those we think we've got most in common with.

Lee was on fire when it came to emigrants Down Under, ripping the surfboard out of every cliché. 'Prawns! Prawns! Prawns! Quality of life! Prawns!' turned into a near-hysteric mantra. Mmm... you probably had to be there. Why weren't you?

In praise of... Stewart Lee

His performances unfurl like a stroll on a summer's day: scenery and good companionship take precedence over destination.

In this penultimate slice of masterful stand-up comedy, Stewart Lee looks at the notion of national identity. Skewered during his erudite, spiralling rant are figures as diverse as Winston Churchill, Michael McIntyre and pretty much the entire population of Australia. There's also a cameo appearance from the cult graphic novelist Alan Moore (Watchmen).

This isn't a mistake, this is my act!" Stewart Lee's self-deprecation is second nature and he remains as dry as the Atacama desert. Here, he happily tests the limits of the shambolic while pulling the rug from underneath what is now accepted as comedy. He sets out to do a musical comedy routine so as to win over the audience but can't resist a few nice barbs about Michael McIntyre's Comedy Roadshow. The risk is that he deconstructs comedy to the point of nihility - the interview scenes with Armando Iannucci are particularly grating and unnecessary - but Lee is such a pro he always let's the joke, in some form, get through.

More superb comedy - in a deliberately late time slot, to prevent intelligent audiences switching off after Newsnight, apparently. Tonight's set is all about charity. Actually, this new series' opening episode was supposed to be all about charity too, but being his tangential self, Lee instead veered off into a riff about crisps, and it all went potato-shaped from there. So, charity: how much should we give? Adrian "Toby Jug" Chiles and Russell Brand may wish to duck behind the sofa for this one.

Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle (BBC2) is back, with conditions. The conceit of the new series is that Lee was only allowed another go if he promised to put more jokes in and be more accessible. The idea that Series 2, which started last week, is Lee at his most accessible is itself part of the joke.

He is, however, at his most masterful. It's always a pleasure to watch someone who is good at his job go to work. Lee is skilled enough to work a club audience and a TV audience simultaneously, even to play one off against the other. Personally, I think he's the funniest thing on television right now, but success isn't going to spoil him anytime soon. Not while they're still putting him on the wrong side of Newsnight.