You have to somewhat marvel at the extent to which Viggo Venn's career has changed course. In a development seen as hugely significant for the clowning comedy scene, it's now six months since he won Britain's Got Talent. It's probably fair to say his audience has changed as a result. This is, after all, the kind of thing that usually only attracts about 30 comedy aficionados to an unairconditioned basement at the Edinburgh Fringe.

You couldn't quite say the same thing about tonight's audience. In the row behind us you've got a family with a toddler (who Viggo high-fives at one point), and to our side, an inebriated fan who gets up and dances every time Daft Punk's One More Time comes on. And it might not surprise you to learn that that song comes on a lot during this show. As a result, a fully-blown argument breaks out, mid-show, between her and the woman sat behind her. And all this on a Sunday night, too - not an evening traditionally held as the wildest in London's West End.

Obviously half the point of the famous One More Time/yellow tabard joke is that it goes on too long, although that doesn't stop you starting to feel as though it is actually going on too long. Viggo is definitely good at this kind of anarchic fun - he can, and does, pop up everywhere in the Shaftesbury Theatre's auditorium. Much of the show feels like freewheeling chaos, which suits him well, as he's adept at turning unpredictable events to his comedic advantage. Later, as he did on TV, audience members speak their names along to Eminem's My Name Is, and Viggo mimics and exaggerates their personalities based on this. Again, a fun, inventive little idea for a few minutes, but tonight it reinforces your fears by massively overstaying its welcome.

At some point you do wish there was a few more things we haven't already seen on TV. It all makes for a passable night out that gives the people what they want, if too little of what they didn't know they wanted.

Incidentally, it's also worth wondering how many other clowns would achieve wide-ranging mainstream success if only more avenues existed within British TV. This tour, then, has a rare opportunity to also act as something of a shop window for the scene: by booking other great alternative acts to support him on tour, passing visitors may leave encouraged to further investigate the fringes of the UK's comedy landscape. Unfortunately, it appears to be an opportunity squandered: both support acts tonight could most charitably be described as unremarkable. The audience member sat in front of us votes with their hands by instead choosing to scroll the BBC News app.

To start with, you're not sure about Iliza Shlesinger's show. The star (with no fewer than six Netflix live specials to her name) started comedy 19 years ago, but here at the Hammersmith Apollo she's making worthwhile, but quite familiar points. How women, say, don't actually need to make an effort with make-up etc to arouse men: they're turned on extremely easily, regardless. Or her challenging the claim from some women that they "wear make-up and dress sexily for ourselves, not for men". Good, funny social observations, but ones that have already been made fairly recently by UK comedians. Suffice to say that if you're interested in hearing the differences between men and women in modern society, it's certainly a show that's all too happy to explore them.

After initial concerns about a lack of original thought, the show does warm up. She's inventive on other social divides - namely the one between millennials and Gen Z, as well as the dilemma women face about whether to get cosmetic surgery as they age - "it's a difficult choice women have to make, do you want to look old, or weird?". You leave the show satisfied. It'll probably end up on Netflix at some point, so watch out for it there.

Finally, there's the small matter of Trevor Noah's three nights at London's Millennium Dome. It's not unusual to encounter a comedian who is as funny in their off-the-cuff moments as they are in their prepared routines. It can be considered a good sign that they've got the full skill set required for this job.

What is more unusual, however, is that a comedian is funnier in their off-the-cuff moments. There comes a point when you think "hang on, if you've got funnier things to say, could you make sure they're in the part of the show where you're definitely going to say them please? It's just, the tickets are quite expensive, I'd like to hear the best you've got".

The main body of Trevor Noah's show is absolutely fine. Passable. Certainly not anything you'd actively recommend to friends, or something that justifies being staged in one of the country's biggest comedy venues. He talks about airlines and frustrating customer service situations. A little more bracingly, in fairness, he also discusses his preference for being stabbed rather than being shot. It's all of roughly the same quality though: absolutely fine.

Then towards the back of the show, he opens up the floor for a Q+A session. It's here that he displays a talent that starts to explain the hype. He's great, funny, interesting company in these moments. I've heard he did a little audience Q+A before recordings of The Daily Show, so it makes sense that he'd have built up a little match fitness in the discipline. You still wish he'd more carefully filter his touring material though.

Read previous editions of this column (including John Robins, Rosie Jones, Ivo Graham, Munya Chawawa and Kate Berlant).

Mark Muldoon is also available on Instagram and Twitter. He offers his apologies that he still refers to them as 'Twitter', 'Hammersmith Apollo' and 'Millennium Dome'.