YOU must be brave to be a comedian, to stand up in front of a room full of people expecting you to make them laugh. 

You need chutzpah, but it’s easy for this to become arrogance and lack of respect for your audience.

Think of Stewart Lee and the late Sean Hughes and you’ll see what I mean.

Not so Jeremy Hardy.  Best known for his work on “The News Quiz” and “ISIHAC,” where his milk-curdling, atonal singing is almost as popular as Mornington Crescent itself, Jeremy’s comedy is of a gentler stamp; self-effacing, considerate of all viewpoints.

Based almost entirely on socio-political  observation, it’s intelligent and heartfelt, his views well to the left and persuasive.

He welcomed us reverently – “this audience probably includes every Labour voter in Andover” – then took us through a measured, chucklesome diatribe encompassing Brexit, his loathing of visiting the gym – “I’m not really training, just picking things up and putting them down again” – and the bizarre need for joggers to be connected to social media.

He politely thanked us for returning after the interval – “ it doesn’t always happen” – before taking us through just why he feels Jeremy Corbin will be the next Prime Minister: reluctant leader, bearded, wears sandals, initials J.C; ring any bells?

Immigration, too, received his diffident attention: why worry about Polish workers – there are lots of them in other places like, err, Poland, and those countries seem to get by. 

His views are confident and reasoned, but with enough quirky asides to keep even the most cynical member of the audience laughing at his acerbic wit.

Perhaps that’s the future. 

Turn the running of the country over to professional comedians and we may just get  more objective decisions. 

As for showing respect to the punters, Jeremy knows how to do that, too:  after all, he didn’t sing.