Jay Richardson reviews 'The Armstrong and Miller Tour'...

Touring again for the first time in almost a decade, Alexander Armstrong and Ben Miller will be hoping to whet appetites for their BBC One series, returning this week (Saturday 30th October). Technical gremlins bedevilled earlier shows in the run, but tonight's smooth production befits their primetime billing, polished video and computer animation seamlessly bridging the gap between costume changes.

Unsurprisingly, every gesture is that bit grander, theatrical and more expressive in the live setting. A giant screen facilitates a cheeky Google Earth gag at the expense of Rog, Miller's blithely oblivious cuckold, emotionally incapable of acknowledging his wife's cheating. Throughout, this looming technology generally supplements the laughs rather than prompting them, though a flash-looking, recurring World of Warcraft spoof outstays its childish welcome before an admittedly witty finale.

Katherine Jakeways is sufficient supporting cast, notwithstanding occasional cameos from the unsung Stephen Evans, and the star turns indulge themselves with a greater licence to swear. There's a smattering of audience participation that reaps amusing reward, even if the pair unknowingly pick the same volunteer for different skits tonight and she trips Miller up by refusing to be his mark.

Sadly though, Armstrong and Miller rely too heavily on their established characters without developing them from their screen originals, while new creations are introduced with less than a flourish, making for a distinctly underwhelming show. Despite employing the talents of numerous writers, the script rarely sparkles and on several occasions a sketch concludes with a desperate song or dance number in lieu of a satisfying punchline.

The duo's Second World War pilots, blustering in modern street patois and protesting their human rights are rightly revered. But four appearances here afford diminishing returns, even as they're depicted in combat, an allusion to A Matter of Life and Death suggesting a dearth of originality rather than a new direction to be explored.

Conspicuously, their disgraced children's TV presenters simply repeat the same indiscretions as those they've always fallen foul of, relying on easy laughs of recognition rather than surprise. Still, the tactic does succeed for Armstrong's invasive, inappropriate dentist thanks to the twist of using a reluctant audience member as the squirming patient.

Throughout, a suspicion pervades that Armstrong and Miller have stuffed this show with offcuts deemed unworthy of the new series. Gratuitously filthy Flanders and Swann parody Brabbins and Fyffe introduce themselves promisingly, delivering a hymn to that most amusing bit of the anatomy and staple of Viz's Profanisaurus, the perineum, while revealing just how Brabbins became wheelchair-bound. Yet the lyrics are uncharacteristically flat, the gags notably lacking and it's telling that an audience sing-along is required to usher the show to the interval.

The duo's cavemen commence a lengthy, carefully choreographed song and dance routine on the development of language that repeats the failing, while a tribute number to milliners is so sincere you'll search in vain for the intended humour. Of the new creations, anachronistic vampires Pharius and Horschstadt, pining for the great aristocratic courts of Europe while railing against the vulgarity of the Twilight phenomenon have tremendous potential. But their appearance at a bums, legs and tums workout is less of a hilarious juxtaposition than simply beneath them.

There are some fine moments. A seemingly stock, lost-in-translation sketch, in which Armstrong's increasingly irate holidaymaker fails to convey the concept of crazy paving to Miller's bewildered German gets progressively funnier as he demonstrates his accomplished physical skills. But inspired sketches like this are few and far between. One hopes that the pair's return to our television screens is more assured.

King's Theatre, Glasgow, 22nd October 2010