Humour is famously the cultural characteristic most inaccessible to outsiders. The Japanese taste for pain-based comedy is chilling to western sensibilities. Italian hysteria at adults in chicken outfits waddling through game shows is baffling to all but Roman sensibilities.

But a Dutch stand-up comedian, Micha Wertheim, has been performing to acclaim in Britain since 2001. Moreover, he seems to be a fresh import, not the type of globetrotting Dutchman you are bemused to discover is not American after half an hour of conversation.

His recent show at the Battersea Arts Centre was littered with warnings that English is not his first language.

His skills were in finding the humour in his failure to communicate (undoubtedly exaggerated for this purpose) and using the international language of physical comedy – a combination we have known can work a treat since Manuel first shuffled into the Fawlty Towers dining room.

Wertheim’s entrance, like the rest of his performance, was joyous and theatrical.

Skipping on stage wearing a suit jacket, socks, trainers and blue pants, he performed a two step dance to routine to You can Ring My Bell by Anita Ward, grinning enthusiastically and encouraging the audience to clap along, which brightened everyone’s mood, or at least made them giggle.

The only unifying themes in his routine were Dutch liberalism (“a Dutch taxi-driver will tell you “I hate black people, regardless of their sexuality”) and a striving to be as controversial as possible (“I don’t think we in the West can truly call ourselves a democracy while gang-rape is illegal – there is a majority there”).

But the most engaging aspect of the show was its theatricality. When he began to wave at his mother, patently absent, at the back of the theatre, I was concerned that he was trying a joke designed for a large venue, where someone could plausibly pretend a family member lurked at the back, but which was absurd and embarrassing with this sparse Tuesday night audience.

But later, when he spoke to his dead grandmother and then looked down to discover that he wasn’t wearing any trousers, all became clear – he was dreaming.

Specifically, he was dreaming one of those fear-induced scenarios that leaves you naked in front of a crowd. A series of surreal acts and outrageous jokes later, the comic disappeared to the sound of an alarm clock, leaving his imagined audience with the feeling that as much can be gained as lost in translation.

Caroline white

Micha Wertheim appeared as part of the Battersea Arts Centre's N2O comedy season

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