It is not often that this critic is shocked by a comedy show but it happened twice at Frank Skinner's sell-out gig this weekend. Firstly there was the shock of how crude the Black Country bloke was. Secondly there was the shock of how astonishingly good he was compared to his lacklustre club gig at the Edinburgh Festival in August.

Comedians are often diminished by larger venues but Skinner, touring for the first time in a decade, was in his element. Utterly at ease, he might as well have been chatting to his chums at the football. Yet behind the casual delivery this was one of the most tightly structured stand-up performances I have ever seen, full of back-references, mock spontaneity and subtle pacing.

The material has evolved substantially since the summer. Some pertinent reflections on turning 50 remain - his gold tooth makes him look less bling, more fairground attendant - but two obnoxious routines, about his penchant for "granny porn" and his habit of chatting up women by referring to his wealth were absent, replaced by self-deprecating unquotable details of his bedroom etiquette.

Best and most uncharacteristic of all, however, was his closing tour de force, a spleen-venting confessional about obsessiveness, which ended with Skinner flat on the floor and the audience blown away. Not merely a comedy gig, a masterclass in how to turn pure filth into comedy gold.

• Lyric Theatre, 18 November (0870 890 1107). Carling Apollo, 28 November (0870 606 3400). www.frankskinnerlive.com.