We meet at the bus stop. The No.73 has dropped Stewart Lee off from Stoke Newington, the steadily-gentrifying corner of North London whose social characteristics are increasingly providing material for his comedy. A green woollen hat pushing his famous quiff down into a tousled forelock, Stewart Lee the human being looks a lot like ‘Stewart…
“No one is equipped to review me,” says Lee, beginning the fourth round of his standup series. He’s joking. Kind of. By now, he’s basically Oscar Wilde: it’s practically impossible to divine any meaning from his increasingly complex pose. Lee says he adopts a snobbish persona to make people “laugh in spite of me, not…