By Gavin Allen
From the bombastic bars of that familiar theme tune, it's clear The New Statesman doesn't do subtlety.
But with Rik Mayall oozing around the stage in slicked back hair and fobchains, the match of material to performer is perfect.
Alan B'Stard, now remodelled as the Don of New Labour and ensconced in 11 Downing Street, baits, blasphemes and obliterates Tony Blair and his party.
Writers Marks and Gran craft a crossfire of humour levels, a comedy kerplunk, but they are never more than 10 seconds away from a cascade of good old working-class filth.
Some comedy targets are bullseyed bitterly, the broadside against the BBC smacks of vendetta from writers and a performer cast out of their former home.
But The New Statesman's epicentre is a performance of ego-driven brilliance from Mayall, barely giving anyone else a line but riffing generously with his co-stars in moments of improvisation when frequently thrown by rogue props.
It elevated an occasional air of sitcom predictability to the live experience only the theatre can provide, crowbarring jokes to an already crammed script.
And in his pinstripes, Mayall dominates the stage, stealing scenes with the waggle of a finger or putrid pelvic thrust. Impeccably puerile, irresistibly filthy and mercilessly funny.
The New Statesman: Episode 2007 runs at the New Theatre, Cardiff, until Saturday.