Robert Bathurst is magnificent in this Izzard-esque lock-in with a woozy, boozy journalist 

Jeffrey Bernard is unwell. He’s also a journalist for The Spectator. He’s also locked in a pub at 4am after passing out in the loos. While waiting for the landlord to pick up the phone and let him out, he passes the time with many vodkas and many more stories. An hour spent with Jeffrey is an hour of anecdotes upon anecdotes, cassette tapes from ex-wives, pub games and no shame – and it is an hour well spent.

Originally a four-hander written by Keith Waterhouse in 1989 and based upon the real-life Jeffrey Bernard, this one-man revival of the 2019 production returns to the Coach and Horses. The title refers to the one that The Spectator would often print in lieu of Bernard’s article, often missing due to any mixture of alcohol and anarchy. The Jeffrey that we find has been kicked out of home by his fourth wife and on the run from HMRC – a common recurrence for the natural decadent and rule-breaker.

Its sole performer is Robert Bathurst, of Cold Feet and Downton Abbey fame. There are big shoes to fill (Peter O’Toole originated the role) but Bathurst makes you feel like nobody else could play this part. His unrelentingly dry, whimsical tone evokes the absurdist tangents of Eddie Izzard’s stand-up, such an effective and memorable delivery that lets us hang on his every part-slurred word. He is magnetic, charming and very, very funny.

The work of Jez Butterworth seems to drift across this play, the yearning for an England long gone is as powerful here as in Jerusalem (although Soho is the play’s target, the West Country does get a mention – mainly surrounding the impotence of its residents). The self-mythologising of Butterworth’s characters can also be found here, although for Bernard his self-pity means that the heroism centres on his friends. From his reports, the friends are clearly all bonkers, but at their core, they are generous, honourable and – most importantly for Bernard – good bloody fun.

James Hillier’s clever direction lets Bathurst dictate the pace – namely, an unending circle of the pub. However, he makes sure that the big moments land. There is a marvelous pub trick involving a glass of water, a matchbox and an egg that could easily be lost due to sightlines, but the staging subtly manoeuvres around the cosy pub to make sure no audience member is left short-changed.

For any younger readers, there are some references that will Boeing 747 over your head. I was the youngest in the pub and often found myself looking round at guffowing neighbours non-plussed at the names of Kier Hardie and Gary Cooper (I’ve Googled them and still … ??) But there is more than enough charm and heart in the tales that Bernard weaves to capture the attention and imagination of all ages.

It’s a trim show at 55 minutes straight through, but in that short time you not only feel that you’ve got the grasp of a man, but of a slice of the country. The roguish, loveable, just-above-the-underbelly of society. People that may not cross I’s or dot T’s but, as this show nails, are fantastic company.