FORGET John Cleese, Spike Milligan, Bill Hicks, or Laurel and Hardy, 6ft 8in and 20-stone Greg Davies - physically at least - dwarfs such comedy giants.

Davies arrived on stage at the poky Basement Bar like Gulliver, forcing a crouch so his huge arms could reach up to the perilously low ceiling.

Necks may have been strained, but the gags flowed freely as the big man delivered a set that reached for the stars.

The former teacher - he retired because he feared the streetwise pupils - chalked up notable successes by offering the audience a series of bizarre choices.

Foot-long nasal hair or an egg for an eye? You'll be relieved to hear York voted unanimously for poultry vision rather than a ticklish top lip. Always amiable and frequently hilarious, future triumphs on the comedy circuit might not be that much of a tall order.

Newcomer Neil McGee dropped in from Newcastle to complain about the early arrival of Christmas. Nerves were eased by a stream of astute observations, so he did not face the horrors of a silent night.

After an hour of headliner Hal Cruttenden, it felt like Christmas had come early, and brought a stack of birthday presents and Easter eggs under its arm for good measure.

The effeminate University of York graduate was a joy to watch as he weaved war, politics, religion and sport into a comic tapestry interlaced with a wildly coloured surrealistic streak.

Ending his set with an astute "all style-no substance" Blairite conference speech, this stand-up proved he was no shallow Hal.

Updated: 11:07 Tuesday, October 12, 2004