The main difference I’ve found between writing sketches for radio and for the stage is that it’s a lot easier to do visual jokes on the radio. This sometimes surprises people, not wholly unreasonably, given the definitions of the words ‘radio’ and ‘visual’. But it’s true, for a couple of reasons. The first is budget. On the radio I have, to all intents and purposes, an unlimited budget. I wrote a sketch for my radio show, John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme, in which an elephant wearing a suit of armour falls slowly down a marble staircase. My producer vetoed my attempt to put this on stage at a very early stage. Another sketch featured a beast called a Crocopie - a cross between an unusually docile crocodile and a quite heroically determined magpie - swooping down from the skies to bite the head off a pirate. Again, this has proved hard to replicate in the theatre. On the other hand, it’s surprising what is achievable, given a little imagination both from us and from the audience. The sketch in which I play the moon, for instance, asking the sun if he wouldn’t mind backing off from the Earth a bit, so as to make him look better in comparison, seems to go fine, even though the audience can plainly see that my circumference is a little less than 7000 miles (although getting closer to it every year), and I am only very lightly covered in pools of solidified basaltic lava.

The other difference is that the audience’s attention is much easier to direct on the radio. I can choose precisely the moment I want to reveal that the speakers are all basking sharks enjoying a well-earned bask, or that the ‘surprise witness’ in a court case is Elvis Presley riding a dragon. On stage, the audience get to choose what they look at when, damn them, which means that I have to keep acting even when it’s not my turn to speak, if you can imagine such a thing. I know! I’m really pushing my craft to the limits here. However, it does mean that I get to look the audience in the eye, especially in the moments when I am talking directly to them, for instance as the furious member of Britain’s Silent Majority, who wishes to remind them that the thing about foreigners is that they have the whole of the rest of the world to themselves, or as my Cabin Pressure character Arthur Shappey, imparting some little-known facts about polar bears, such as that they are invisible. Having that direct connection with the audience, and being able to time each line to their specific reaction, is a real pleasure, and a luxury I certainly don’t get on the radio, where I know that the audience are quite likely to be peeling potatoes as they listen, or attempting to merge onto the A41. Both these practices are strictly forbidden in the auditorium of the Shaw Theatre, and although some may find that harsh, I think it probably does result in a smoother show.

Looking back through this piece, I see that I’ve made the sketches sound quite surreal. They’re really not - there’s a logical explanation for all the situations mentioned above… as there is for the fact that my last costume change of the evening involves taking off an air steward’s uniform, and putting on a bright green dinosaur onesie, and, over that… a monk’s habit. To find out what, do please drop in on us at the Souvenir Cabin.

John Finnemore’s Souvenir Cabin is playing at the Shaw Theatre until 11th October

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