In his new standup show, Humanity, his first for seven years, Ricky Gervais tells a childhood story about his Uncle Reginald, a bald man whose preposterous wig ignited a conspiracy of silence in the family. Can we blame – or thank – Reg for the entertainer his nephew became? For tonight’s show, and Gervais’s whole comic career, is one big delinquent reaction against just such taboos, a gleeful rending of drawn veils, to hell with feelings hurt in the process. Those sensitive to transgender issues, say (or jokes involving rape or cot death), should take a deep breath before booking for Humanity. And yet, it’s Gervais’s best and most considered standup show so far.

It’s also, not coincidentally, his most personal. Alongside the Uncle Reg material, there are stories about his prankster brother Bob, their mother’s funeral, and life growing up on a Reading council estate. This is a self-revealing side to Gervais we’ve seldom seen, offsetting the wilful provocation with something gentler, less attention-seeking.

Even the liberal-baiting is more nuanced. One routine expands on jokes Gervais made at the Golden Globe awards about Caitlyn Jenner, and the reactions they provoked. In response to being told he mustn’t “dead-name” Jenner (ie, call her Bruce), he launches into a ruthless skit harping on pre-op Jenner’s masculinity, and another in which Gervais undergoes “species realignment”, on the basis that: “If I say I’m a chimp, I am a chimp.” This joke isn’t transphobic, Gervais tells us, but neither does it remotely respect the feelings of those who experience transphobia. It certainly confirms, though, that gender as self-assertion is a fruitful terrain for comedy. And there’s a precious gag, too, about chimp Ricky gibbering at his wife as his house catches fire.



“That’s all we are: we’re just animals,” runs the show’s thesis – somewhat undermined later, in a routine about childlessness, by Gervais’s high-minded scorn of the urge to reproduce. But this is a droll riff, imagining the spoilt little rich kid he refuses to bring into the world, or (deep breath here) the African child he might have adopted as part surrogate son, part manservant.

Personal material notwithstanding, Gervais the wind-up merchant is never far away, gloating about his wealth, preferring Hitler to anyone allergic to nuts. But there’s (slightly) more contemplative material, too, as he laments a “decline” from IRA to Isis, or how social media has amplified the opinions of idiots. If it’s a bit rich for Gervais to complain that “people get in the way” when he cracks off-colour jokes on Twitter, the riff is redeemed by a lofty takedown – with added mime – of an online troll who damns Gervais to satanic sexual assault.

Not for the first time, Gervais footnotes his jokes with little lectures on why no one has any right to take offence. That claim remains contentious: he can still be callous, and objectionable. But for me, he’s outgrown his crasser excesses with this teasing, pugnacious and funny standup show.

At York Barbican, 28 February, 1 March. Box office: 0844 854 2757. Then touring.

