His "old people chatting in a postmodern fashion on top of a bonfire" skit, which lasted six minutes in August, now goes on for twenty. And you can almost smell the fun he is having in stretching out his Maxine Carr material, just to see how far he can push our tolerance levels. Quite far, as it goes, save for the odd shame-ridden "ooh".
Given the wrong audience, you can imagine a Richard Herring show going very horribly awry; perhaps one filled by the mechanics he mercilessly ribs for working in a garage called The Hand Job Centre (another routine which deliberately stays up way past its bedtime). Thankfully, though, this bunch were soft putty in Herring's artful hands.