Keith Farnan is an amiable, shaggy-haired comedian with a conscience from Cork, but his secular, joke-strewn sermon of a set is neither funny nor punchy enough to do justice to the matter at hand. It has the awkward mutual benevolence of a bad first date. We want him to enlighten us, to anger us even, but the tone oscillates between weak satire (the UN as the ITV of human rights) and mawkish idealism (the material on love education and his hypothetical daughter, especially). His musings on feminism and women's rights have the hackneyed predictability of an AS Level Human Geography presentation. Fernan's interaction with the audience also lacks sparkle, especially when gifted responses ripe for exploitation (one woman had a cat called Puppy).Perhaps it was a quiet audience (not to mention a damp one) and I sense that this 5 o'clock slot (as Laura Solon found) is tricky, the languid limbo between bright-eyed lunchtime punters and beer-washed evening crowds. There are moments of originality, both comedic ('Budweiser is what we wash cattle with') and philanthropic (the string illustration of a size zero waist), but overall this show leaves a lot to be desired and a genuinely funny George Bernard Shaw anecdote only serves to highlight the coruscating wit this show lacks.