How's this for comedians being a sight for sore eyes? Last night seven acts raised money for deprived Indian children, and though £5,000 might not seem huge by Comic Relief standards, it can fund 500 blindness-preventing cataract operations. A good cause and a great gig too.

Organiser John Moloney compered the first half with gags that were as funny as they were well-worn: "My grandad shot down two German planes ... in 1971."

Will Smith followed with his usual self-deprecating posh routine, building up a merciless portrait of an anal retentive so fantastically square he takes grapes - "nature's Maltesers" - to the cinema.

It is best to be charitable about last-minute stand-in Nick Wilty, who traded in regional clichés and got chuckles, but not from me. By contrast Ricky Grover deliciously subverted expectations. One moment he was explaining that, being overweight, his favourite pastime is threatening to sit next to people on planes, the next he was adopting a pretentious voice to critique his own blistering routine.

After the interval Stephen K Amos replaced Moloney as compere. With his peerless hyperkinetic banter, Amos is a hard act to follow, but Micky Flanagan managed it by changing the pace with the well-crafted story of how he was once a fish porter and now finds himself offering balsamic vinegar to friends in East Dulwich. Not just jokes, also a potted history of social mobility in modern Britain.

Judging by the roar that greeted the headliner, there was only one act everyone had come to see. And Bill Bailey did not disappoint. Describing himself as resembling a "burnt-out Dutch stockbroker" in his oddly smart jacket, Bailey delivered a storming mix of old and new.

The EastEnders theme reworked as a jazz-funk workout was a musical highlight, but standout line of the night was his explanation of why he refused to pose nude for Peta's anti-fur campaign. Bailey's chest is so hairy, he said, it would look as if he was wearing a "mink leotard". Now there is an image that maybe no one should see.