Not all of life’s surprises can be nice, but Adam Kay transpires to be a very pleasant one indeed. When a chubby man emerges onto the stage, clutching a bottle of shiraz, plonks himself in front of the piano and begins to bawl out a comedy version of ‘Parklife’, you fear for the worst. This is Chris Moyles stuff. Kitsch cabaret that’s funny for ten seconds that then becomes really annoying.A pattern is soon established. Every time Adam Kay fondles the ivories, a popular song is coaxed from the depths of the grand piano. The comedian then opens his mouth and begins singing smutty lyrics. The chorus, when it arrives, is an inspired play on the words of the original. We are treated to such ditties as ‘Iranian Men’ by The Weather Girls and the Michael Jackson classic ‘Bidet’. It’s crude, it’s filthy, it’s puerile but it’s also very, very funny. Such bawdy repartee shouldn’t be so hilarious, but it is. Kay cuts an anarchic figure. Slouched at the piano, the comic regales the audience with increasingly-slurred stories. He promises to play until the wine bottle’s empty. He’s as good as his word. Then he disappears backstage and emerges clutching another one. Most of that gets demolished before he fumbles his glass and it shatters into a thousand pieces. Kay indolently blots the claret on his sleeve, pushes the bottle to his lips and bursts into another song. He may not have the voice of John Martyn, but he’s got the same car-crash quality about him.The best thing about watching Kay demolish his recommended weekly units in under an hour is the knowledge that he’s a former doctor. After hearing him sing about the places he likes to put corks and paintbrushes you can’t help but feel grateful that Adam Kay is no longer a practising GP. This loss to the medical profession is comedy’s gain.