Rhod Gilbert, De Montfort Hall, Leicester

Rhod GIlbert is, I suppose, what one would call a contrarian. Much that he comes up against in life appears to confound him and, perhaps as a consequence, a lot of things seem to go wrong (often at the same time), which causes him yet more rilement. Even the title of this show, Rhod Gilbert & The Cat That Looked Like Nicholas Lyndhurst, which I saw at the Leicester Comedy Festival, is in response to an annoying fan who brings the comic gifts of things that have been mentioned in previous show titles, such as grapes and mince pies. “I thought, I’ll show him,” says Gilbert. “There’s no way he can come up with a cat looking like the ginger-haired, moon-eyed actor from a popular sitcom. Petty, I know, but it gave me pleasure.”

Not petty at all, just brilliantly inventive, like much of Gilbert’s act. In earlier years his comedy went much farther down this road, being full-blown surreal, charting life in an imaginary Welsh village where he lived with his wife and children. All nonsense, but told in intricate detail and with such vein-bursting passion that many of the audience were taken in. Although he had his fans, Gilbert, now 41, hadn’t made the breakthrough many critics feel he deserved at that point and at the 2008 Edinburgh Fringe he took a different approach with The Award-Winning Mince Pie.

The show was based, he said, on a real incident in which the comic got into a furious bate with staff at the Knutsford service station on the M6 late one night over precisely which award their “award winning mince pies” had won. For a pedant like him, such things are important, but they were unable to tell him and, being Gilbert, he wouldn’t let it rest and so the police were called. He turned the story into a masterly show, complete with trademark rants about how much of modern life is a bit shit or unnecessarily confusing - just what are tog ratings on duvets? - and it was nominated for the prestigious If.comedy (formerly Perrier) award. Many critics (including me) thought he was unlucky not to win.

This show is a logical development of Mince Pie, and its central story concerns how in the past year Gilbert’s life has fallen apart - after losing his home, his agent and his girlfriend, he says, he had to go into anger-management therapy. “There were 12 of us in the group - 11 losers and me.” Along the way, we learn that inanimate objects such as vacuum cleaners and washing machines have it in for him. The routines are built detail by detail, layer upon layer, until Gilbert is stamping across the stage, straining to get each word out in his rage, and looks in danger of having a coronary.

The Welshman is taking a risk with this stage persona, as much of comedy relies on the laughter of recognition, and who wants to recognise themselves in the man Gilbert presents himself as - self-centred, oblivious to others’ feelings, nit-picking and liable to go off on one at any moment? Although he tells us at the end most of it is untrue, there’s a danger some of the audience will think the line between comic and character occasionally bleeds.

But there is no doubting Gilbert’s writing and acting gifts and this is a very well constructed show, even if at times it appears to be meandering and the shoutiness can be a bit one-note. There’s a very funny filmed coda and, on the night I saw him, Gilbert did an astonishing extempore five-minute riff in response to a request from the audience to do an old favourite, which required a prop the comic didn’t have. It turned into a sublime melding of two routines - what constitutes hand baggage on cheap airlines and the terrors of buying a duvet - and proved that Gilbert can come up with comedy gold on the hoof.

Leicester Comedy Festival continues until 21 February. Details here
Rhod Gilbert is touring until 24 April. Details here