Boyle, Frankie - Warrington Parr Hall

1:48pm Saturday 8th March 2008

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IF I had delicate sensibilities to offend, a night watching Frankie Boyle would have seen them beaten black and blue.

As it is, I'm made of pretty strong stuff, which is fortunate really because the pale, ginger bespectacled Scotsman is not called the blackest man in comedy for nothing.

As the best comedian on Mock the Week, I was looking forward to seeing how he'd fare in a live situation and was more than prepared for his sniper-like cruelty.

Absolutely nothing is sacred as far as his stand-up is concerned, audience included, and he covers every taboo subject you can think of.

Nothing is off limits - padophiles, rapists, cancer patients - and at times he cuts so near to the bone you wonder if he's drawn blood.

Of the few jokes safe to repeat in a family publication, celebrities and policiticans are fair game - Amy Winehouse is a poster girl for neglected horses', Posh Spice the perfect celebrity to kidnap as you could just fax one of her fingers', while in a debate about whether Margaret Thatcher should have a state funeral the only point worth considering is whether or not she should be dead first.

As each joke plumbs the depths, you wonder how low he can go - something answered midway through the set in a joke about Lewis Hamilton's disabled brother.

While there is no denying his black humour is quite brilliant, and his wit razor sharp, if his audience baiting is anything to go by, his set almost seems to lack an element of craft and his scattergun approach of shocking a reaction out of his audience has the adverse affect of leaving you pretty desensitised by the end.