An unassuming-looking Yorkshire man warms us up by asking a few audience members where they’re from and makes some safe jokes about America, Yorkshire and New Zealand once he’s established the nationalities that make up the audience.

At first this seemingly run-of-the-mill stand up comic, breezily likeable and not the least bit threatening, runs through a few classic themes, comparing Kiwi audiences to Aussies and Londoners, pondering the benefits of gay sex, taking the mickey out of his hometown. Then when he’s sure he’s got us eating out of his hand a mischievous streak creeps in and the gloves come off, one at a time. It’s his first time in New Zealand and he’s persistent, energetic and completely at ease.

There’s a physical element to all of his jokes, such as a demonstration of a 5 year old entering a room and what his wife looks like when she’s drunk. He does a shrewd, rubber-faced impersonation of ravers on ecstasy and hilarious impressions of his kids’ quirks and their skilful manipulation of their father. "I don’t do drugs anymore, you have to be fit when you have kids, so you chase them around and… catch them."

An exaggeratedly dark, insider’s view of the hardships of parenting and marriage had me in stitches. Tonkinson is a mixture of dry (as only Poms can be) and playfully sadistic. He regales us with the pitfalls and booby traps of his married life – from using the kids as bargaining chips to the trials and tribulations of making oneself a sandwich in ones own kitchen. Tongue in cheek, he makes sure he comes across as the unassuming, unsuspecting victim of female psychological brutality, so that he can then come out on top with a crafty comeback to housework fascism, gaining our sympathy and support.

Unlike most comedians who make fun of their spouses, Tonkinson doesn’t bother to assure us "Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife, I really do, but…" as he expresses how marriage brings out the worst in people. Yet it’s clear he adores his family purely by what a huge sense of hilarity he gets from them. And they aren’t the only ones that get it in the teeth, either: English rugby, American soldiers, comedians, accountants, we the audience, the population of Yorkshire. He ‘accidentally’ (?) takes the piss out of an audience member sitting up the front, when he asks the guy if he wouldn’t mind getting him a vodka cranberry on his next trip to the bar, then realises he’s talking to someone in a wheelchair. Oh the political incorrectness!

Tonkinson is relentlessly charming, never too glib or rehearsed, despite his use of largely tried and true comedic subjects, and always keeps all the plates spinning. Looking down for 10 seconds to scrawl a reminder in my notebook caused me to miss two jokes, so swiftly does he move from one idea to the next.

If you’re flipping through the Comedy Festival programme wondering what to go and see, I recommend Paul Tonkinson – he’s got something for everyone, even hardcore feminists, rugby heads and Australians.

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