You last visited the Grand Opera House in October 2009 on your Feelgood Factor tour. How does The Best Medicine differ from that similarly positive vibe, Stephen?

“It’s a very different show but the same message. It’s just uplifting, and it’s about being able to laugh at adversity and find positive things in life.”

These are not easy times to be optimistic, are they?

“It’s difficult, but in my experience it depends on how you go through life; if you can’t do that positively, you end up in a negative place.

“One of the ways to be cheerful is to talk to my nephews and nieces, who have such a rosy view on things because they’ve not yet been indoctrinated by their parents, school or the media at large.”

There’s a difference between naivety and optimism, isn’t there?

“To be naïve and just ‘have a nice day’ in that American way is a bit far fetched. In the show I do say that laughter is the best medicine, except when you’re sipping into a hyperglycaemic coma and then insulin is probably the best medicine.”

Comedy is the preferred night out of the moment, in the face of the all-consuming doom and gloom. Clearly it is the best medicine, Stephen?

“You spend a whole day, a whole week, a whole month, working hard and all you read about is the global depression – apart from in Australia, apparently – and so if you have £20 you might as well go somewhere to cheer you up.

“But I don’t want to go and see someone who wants to talk about global depression. I want to see someone who makes me feel better.”

What was the starting point for your Best Medicine show?

“I started off with thinking, ‘Okay, what have been the major tragedies around the world?’ as they’ve all been natural disasters, and then I look for a joke or a twist but you have to be careful with your timing.

“But you can find a twist, and one of the stories that I’m talking about is the floods in Australia, where a couple escaped by floating on an inflatable sex doll…”

The doll might have taken some explaining?

“That’s the joke! What’s the atmosphere the moment he says ‘I’ve got just the thing’?”

In the wake of a disaster, how soon afterwards can you start telling jokes?

“Do you know what I think it comes down to? You have to be sensitive. Personally, I think it’s about a week after, but it’s also about the intent. I tell a joke that’s associated with something, rather than a joke about our morbid fascination with death.

“But the body of the show is me looking back at what I consider disasters in my own life, but hopefully by starting with natural disasters, that will resonate with people.”

• Stephen K Amos, The Best Medicine, Grand Opera House, York, on Sunday, 8pm. Tickets: £18.50 on 0844 847 2322 or grandoperahouseyork.org.uk