At HQ on Sunday night we were given an uncensored, hilarious glimpse into the world of the gangly Glaswegian comic, Phil Kay. He launched into a singing, spitting, farting, burping stream of consciousness that featured most, if not all, of the human orifices and their functions. He took us on a journey through Europe, bellowing out the indignation of a rude French waiter, which merged into a German-sounding tirade that in turn became Swedish, Danish, Norwegian and Icelandic. Next we were off to Paris to share in a day in the life of Phil Kay which included doing a runner from a skyhigh restaurant, surfing on the Metro, striding down the middle of 12 lanes of traffic and warming his hands on the Eternal Flame beneath the Arc de Triomphe. All to reclaim Paris for himself. He dealt with a heckler in expert comic style, by bringing the drunk offender up on stage and giving her the mike. Stunned, she stared and swayed before finding her feet and her voice: "The party's back at my place - we can watch Billy Connolly on the video!" Even Kay had to applaud that.

He also honoured his promise to get naked and sit on one lucky audience member's head. In the end, he didn't actually sit on any heads, but he wasn't shy about shedding all of his clothes to mark the close of this exhilarating and disgustingly funny show.