Review: Jason Manford, Muddle Class, York Barbican, March 29

SOMEWHERE between the aisles of Waitrose and the cigarette butts of Old Trafford is a place of comfort we don’t like to talk about.

Maybe you go to yoga classes in a ripped tracksuit from Sports Direct or hum along to a Mozart opera on Britain’s Got Talent. There is a safe haven where you can go for brunch with your dad, the carpet cleaner, and get a kebab with your mum, the editor of Vogue. This space is "the muddle class".

If you think about it, most of us want to show off how well educated we are, but still not actually be seen as posh. Jason Manford has stumbled across something big: he sees people for who they really are and just how hilarious this is.

His touring partner in crime, Adam Rowe, is one to be watched. Beautifully told gags about sausage rolls, hangovers and his girlfriend are delivered with a stone-cold Godfather-style poker face, and I wasn’t sure whether his occasional moments of cracking up were actually part of the act. Rowe already has some impressive credits and awards under his belt and his is certainly a name to remember.

Manford and Rowe might both be from Lancashire, but as Jason says, we’re all actually united against London, and I’m proud to have such great non-London comedians. This critic saw the show twice, first last autumn, then last Friday. It's that good.

Ela Portnoy