CLARETS and malts improve with age; beer doesn't.

Ironically, Al Murray's Pub Landlord caricature does the opposite of his favourite refreshment. After 20 years, he really is at the lager top of his form, the most savage and brutal commentator on British politics, culture, daily life, religion, economics and Nigel Farage.

Dear Nigel shares the love of a tie, a beer and a wish to make Britain, well, more British, but until he changes his pronunciation from Faraaaaaaage to Faridge, Murray's gobby Guvnor will not take him seriously.

Murray builds his Pub Landlord act around four cornerstones. The first two are the regulars: his refuelling of his oft-spilled glass and bullish inquisitions of assorted members of the front two rows to establish and belittle their jobs, although a foster carer for once had him "snookered", unable to bring himself to insult her.

The special elements for the Twenty Years show are The Guvnor's desire to form the next government in 2015 – and then ban elections – with a cabinet made up from the audience members' jobs in his desire to save this nation. One by one, he slaughters each party with the kind of pub philosophy that has you wishing politicians could be equally worked up.

Better still is his dissection of the economy, involving myriad impersonations of London, German, Japanese, San Franciscan and New York bankers, perhaps the finest routine of Murray's career. Make him the new Guvnor of the Bank of England.

Above all, he picks risky subjects, sets up the worst case scenario then undermines all pomposity and prejudices with jokes that no one can see coming.