If you were asked to imagine the audience at a Sandi Toksvig gig in a provincial theatre, you might be thinking in terms of a comfy sort of crowd: couples passing from their middle years towards a pleasant twilight of pottering in the garden, of doing the crossword and of doing their bit on the parish council, in the charity shop or at the jumble sale. Fans of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue and Just a Minute, they take their seats, looking forward to an evening of cosily familiar chuckles. You might spot the odd younger person here and there. Perhaps a dutiful son or daughter accompanying a parent on an evening out. Like young Luke Roberts, chaperoning his mum at Toksvig's gig in Dunstable last night:
But I wonder what Luke really made of the restrained whimsy, the gentle guffaws and the polite decency of his fellow audience members. Wasn't he bored? Didn't it all seem a bit tame and dull? I only ask because the persona presented by Luke's Twitter presence suggests a character whose taste in jokes and whose approach to discourse is a bit at odds with the vibe of an evening with Sandi Toksvig:
That's pretty funny.
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