On paper it seemed a great idea. Take Bill Bailey’s 2007 Tinselworm tour that was never quite big enough for the enormodomes it played and put it into Shaftesbury Avenue for a month.

And on stage it is not such a bad idea either. But somehow the shortcomings in arenas have been replaced by a different set of shortcomings.

Bailey is not so much a stand-up comedian as an erudite, amiable bag of contradictions. Where others look tubbier on telly, he looks slightly portlier live. Not exactly Buddha-like in his baggy black shirt, maybe Buddha-lite. His material is taut and flabby, too. Often utterly brilliant, yet it flits around, never quite establishing a theme.

Closer scrutiny reveals lows along with highs. Sometimes his musical doodles feel like padding, at other times — his funked-up Dad’s Army theme, for instance — they are inspired. His dotty filmed inserts are hilarious physical comedy footnotes. Frequent name-dropping — Pynchon, Kant, Baudrillard — suggests a deep thinker.

If there is a motif, it is Bailey’s contempt for global corporations, skewering banks, businesses, anyone in suits.

The problem with revivals is that parts are inevitably dated. The James Blunt and Hurricane Katrina gags should go now and the Bush gags should go soon. Yet it is a testament to Bailey’s immense talent and likeability that between the dips there are still plenty of thrills.

Old Bailey certainly, but the verdict is much more hit than miss.

Until 22 December (0844 482 5130, www.gielgud-theatre.com).