ON THE day when the Government announced it was going to spend £250 million to improve our wellbeing by getting us active, opponents could point to the happy full house who sat contentedly listening to Sean Lock, barely twitching a muscle. It never once felt like a treadmill.

Lock is an everyman comic, a middle-aged man pointing out the absurdities of it all. The 53-year-old flirts with accents, mannerisms and physical comedy, but is best when it’s just him and his wonderment, odd thoughts colliding. His grey shirt and dark jeans underlined his "normalness"; concealing a sharp wit barely stretched by the panel shows he is known for.

The tour is called Keep It Light, and while that ethos also extended to sets and props, Lock had fun with the concept. Steering clear of contention, with a smile and a witty swerve, Lock turned his focus on sitting ducks such as chemists, chiropodists and mobile-phone users. Some of this material was recycled from his Purple Van Man 2013 tour. The laughs came frequently, not the crying and rolling in the aisles kind, but warm laughs of recognition. Applause for a particularly fine line came only occasionally.

While the first half took a little while to gather pace, the more unexpected routines were the most welcome. His skit on ballet was arch if over-extended, and the self-deprecating gags about theatre chairs flipping up built cleverly.

The light touch was mostly dispensed with in the second half as he (perhaps cynically) turned to subjects that in such expert hands could barely fail. Midlife crisis and scones came and went, old folks high as kites added a clever twist to the observational stuff, while his Mumsnet masquerades smartly sent up the fairer sex to knowing laughter.

If routines about extortionate cinema food confirmed that this was far from cutting-edge material, Lock was eminently likeable in how he came across; rather like that clever friend in the pub who can always find a funny twist in the everyday woof and warp of life.