MICKEY Flanagan is a bit of a cheeky chappie, a lovable scamp, an East End boy who has soared to huge success, and deservedly so.

At the Ipswich Regent on Friday, he spoke of his new-found fame and the first big roar of laughter was when he explained that he didn’t have a warm-up act, as he wasn’t about to encourage any young upstarts to take his place. His success has been long and hard worked for, so they should do the same.

His comedy chats around the trivia of everyday life and his slightly impish view on the world turns his observations into comedy gold. He comes across as a lovable rogue, the kind of guy who might just egg you on to stay out for just one more pint or to say that thing that has been dying to leave your lips even though you know you shouldn’t.

There is a slight feeling of wistfulness for a more patriarchal age where men could just up and go to the pub and leave the girls to do whatever girls do: a puzzling combination of shrieking, crying and a lot of talking it seems to him.

You must not mind a bit of swearing when you see Mickey, but somehow, with his mischievous grin and the twinkle in his eye, it is not offensive.

The first time I saw Mickey’s stand-up I ended up in the kind of laughter where it turns into silent shoulder shaking with tears pricking at the eyes; watching him again was just the same.

Mickey will be returning later in the year. I recommend you go and see him.