Anyone disappointed by the cancellation of Gifford’s Circus in recent years will be happy to know that Tweedy, their resident clown, is now touring with his own show, which is a delight for children and adults alike.

My own kids, aged 5 and 8, have just been discovering the wonders of slapstick, splitting their sides over re-runs of Buster Keaton and Laurel and Hardy. So when I heard that a living master of the art was coming to town, I knew we had to go. And all three of us were mesmerised from start to finish.

The show opens with Tweedy receiving a letter from the government informing him that as clowning is not considered essential work (the philistines!), Covid regulations require him to retrain as a lost property assistant. Of course, this is a great device for bringing Tweedy into contact with a huge array of props to fool around with - but the most hysterical moments involve nothing more exotic than a spectacularly flimsy desk and an equally rickety stepladder. Mishaps aplenty follow, not to mention some serious feats of derring-do - there are literally moments when I was on the edge of my seat, heart aflutter, not least when that ladder comes crashing to the ground, with Tweedy still on top!

Add to this a burping suitcase, loose planks and swing doors - and a pet iron called Keith - and you have all the ingredients for a fantastic show. As well as being funny, it is seriously impressive, and I came away from it with a newfound respect for the art of clowning, realising what an incredibly multifaceted role it really is - comedian, acrobat, musician, magician, and mime artist all rolled into one. So next time you hear someone casually refer to a figure such as Boris Johnson as a ‘clown,’ don’t let this unwarranted insult to the profession pass unremarked. I reckon the likes of Tweedy have more talent in their little finger than Johnson and his ilk have in their entire cabinet.