It has been said that contemporary audiences laughing aloud at Shakespeare’s comedy is disingenuous because humour is specific to time. The idea is that one can learn to find something funny, but cannot naturally experience it because it lacks real relevance to their era.

That might not be true, but a comparable sentiment arises while watching rambunctious relic Ken Dodd, a stalwart of music hall tradition so far from the present day that not only is it completely absent from television, but programmes like Radio 4’s I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue, which poke fun at its conventions, are ageing national treasures in themselves.

But swimming in an ocean of shimmering ball gowns and high-waisted trousers (and with the performance covering more than four hours it most certainly is an ocean) is some enduringly clever wordplay. And to say Dodd, at the age of 85, is quite animated is like saying the Minster is quite tall.

Attending a Ken Dodd show ends up on lists of things to do before one dies somewhere between swimming with dolphins and climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, because he so adeptly exemplifies that bygone breed of entertainer.

That the most recent current affairs references is to Britain’s second favourite Chancellor Alistair Darling illustrates how Dodd’s clock has remained static for years.

It is meandering, outdated, occasionally sentimental and frankly bizarre in a 21st century context, but in a sense Ken Dodd is still at the top of his game, even though there is no one left to play.

- James Carney